My Short Story Haven
by Janara
Summary: A haven for my short stories, or for those stories that just doesn't want to be finished. I hope you will enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.
1. Outwitted By A Mudblood

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter and I make no money from this hobby of mine.

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><p><em>Outwitted by a Mudblood<em>

_Trapped_

Lord Voldemort hated it when he underestimated an enemy. And he absolutely loathed it when he misjudged the character and resourcefulness of an opponent. The Halloween of 1981 the Dark Lord did both and ended up paying dearly for that mistake.

Having heard part of a prophecy, Lord Voldemort set out to ensure that the child mentioned could never become a threat to him. James Potter he dealt with quickly, since the man was a Pureblood and a powerful one too. Voldemort feared what the wizard could do and killed him before he could put up a fight.

Lily, on the other hand, the Dark Lord disregarded completely as a worthy opponent. The woman was a worthless Mudblood; what could she possibly do to the most feared Dark Lord of all times?

Giving the grieving mother a condescending smile, Voldemort gestured for her to step aside, not caring one whit whether she complied or not. Her baby was going to die this night, and it really didn't matter to Voldemort if she joined her family in death or not.

Lily didn't stand aside. Instead, she gave the Dark Lord a defiant look, and for a moment there seemed to be a fire burning deep within those alluring green eyes. Then the moment was lost and Voldemort pointed his wand at the pest, almost lazily casting the Avada curse.

The next instant Lily Potter's lifeless body hit the floor with a soft thud and Voldemort grinned victoriously as he turned his wand on the last Potter.

It was here, however, that Tom Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort, hit his first major snag. The child did not die.

Harry Potter did not die. Instead the curse was reflected and bounced back towards Voldemort who was too stunned to even think of moving out of the way. As a result, Tom was hit with his own curse and forced from his body.

Hovering above his mortal remains, Voldemort took a moment to get his bearings. The child of prophecy was still alive, much to his annoyance. He himself was dead, to his greater annoyance. Fortunately, his backup plan had worked, ensuring that he would one day come back to fulfil his destiny.

Giving the wailing child a last, murderous look, Voldemort left the wreckage that had once been Godric's Hollow and set off to plot, plan, and regain his strength. Not caring in the least what would become of the child he had just attempted to kill.

That, however, would soon change.

oOo

Being a wraith, Voldemort decided, was dead boring, not to mention a pain in the ass. He was unable to do _anything_ due to his lack of a corporeal body. What little amusement he got from being able to move through walls and other obstacles, enabling him to scare the living daylight out of people and animals soon died a painful death.

Never before had he appreciated all mundane things people take for granted. Such as being able to sleep in a comfortable bed. Or _eat_. Or a million other things that made life worth living.

Voldemort hadn't given the life of a ghost much thought, but he swiftly came to the realisation that it was not a life that suited him. Being a bodiless spirit was not a befitting fate of a Dark Lord, and Voldemort was determined to get his body back as quickly as humanly possible.

This is why he was contemplating the pros and cons of contacting Lucius Malfoy, one of his most trusted followers. Not to mention that the man had in his possession a piece of the Dark Lord's soul.

Together, the two of them should have little difficulty getting Voldemort his body back. Unfortunately, what should have been an easy decision to make was anything but. For some reason, Voldemort was feeling a lot of strange things he wasn't supposed to be feeling.

He was intimately familiar with being hungry. And he was no stranger to being alone and afraid in the dark. But it had been years since the darkness inspired terror in him, and as a wraith he had no need for food, so why in the name of Salazar Slytherin was his stomach tying itself in knots due to hunger? And he really didn't want to know why his private parts felt soggy and disgustingly squishy.

But what truly irritated the Dark Lord was the insistent _tugging_. As if someone or something was trying to make him go somewhere. No one ordered Lord Voldemort around. No one. So it was rather understandably that said Dark Lord held out for as long as he could before finally giving in to the nagging and allowed the blasted tugging to direct him to where he needed to go.

Arriving at a disgustingly _Muggle_ neighbourhood, Voldemort sneered and wished he had never given in to this impulse. The sheer normalness of the neighbourhood had his nonexistent teeth aching and if he could, he would have hurled every dark hex and curse he knew at it. Unfortunately, his magic didn't quite want to work in his new state, and so the Dark Lord had to be satisfied with sneering and uttering every wile curse he'd ever heard.

Looking around, wondering what he was supposed to do next, Voldemort felt another hunger pang course through him, and the next moment a gigantic _tug_ sent him through the door of the nearest house, causing Voldemort to curse in surprise.

His mood didn't improve with such harsh treatment, and it took another nosedive as he saw the horrible Muggleness of the hallway he had ended up in. Glaring angrily at anything and everything, Voldemort snarled, "Alright! I'm here! What is it you want from me?"

"I want you to look after my son!"

Voldemort jumped and whirled around, astonished to see the spirit of Lily Potter standing before him.

"You want me to do what?" he asked incredulous once her words had had a chance to sink in.

"I want you to look after my son," Lily repeated, and there was something decidedly predatory about the smile she gave him.

"Why would I want to look after your brat? He has the power to bring me down in case you had forgotten. Why would I want to look after the child who could destroy me? Besides, it is your brat, why don't you look after him yourself?" Voldemort asked with a sneer.

"Because you killed me, you moron!" Lily hissed, advancing on the Dark Lord, an accusing finger poking him in the chest. It disconcerted Voldemort greatly that he was able to feel that ghostly finger poking him, causing him to back away and put as much space between himself and the revengeful mother as he could.

"I never trusted Peter to do an adequate job as our Secret Keeper – I knew there was reason his animagus form was a rat," Lily muttered under her breath. Shaking her head, she refocused on the Dark Lord. "I knew there was a distinct possibility that both James and I would get killed. So I made preparations."

Voldemort's interest piqued at that admission and he slowly drifted closer, hoping to learn just what Lily had done.

The redhead witch merely smiled serenely at the disembodied spirit. "Did you really think that I would tell you what I did? Unlike some, I'm not an idiot," she said sweetly, but the look in her eyes was anything but sweet.

"I will, however, inform you of the consequences of the deal I struck. From this day forth, until the day my son is of age, you will be responsible for his wellbeing."

Voldemort arched an incredulous eyebrow. "And why in Salazar's name should I care for your spawn?"

"Mayhap because you will feel any pain, any discomfort, that is inflicted on my son?" Lily asked with a smile that Voldemort did not trust.

Frowning in confusion, wondering just what kind of ritual the Mudblood had performed, it certainly wasn't like any magic he had ever heard of before, Voldemort was taken by surprise when another hunger pang caused his stomach to cramp uncomfortably.

Doubling over, realisation finally hit the Dark Lord. "Your son is hungry?" he asked in confusion. Why would Potter be hungry? Weren't his caretakers taking care of him?

"Yes he is. And I believe that his diaper needs to be changed as well," Lily said angrily, sending a longing look at a small cupboard.

Following the glance, Voldemort's confusion grew. Giving in to his curiosity, the wraith drifted through the door and promptly gagged at the sight before him.

Backing out of the cupboard with alacrity, Voldemort refocused on the spirit before him. "Where are we? And why is your son with these... people?"

"This is the house of my sister, Petunia. She always was a jealous bitch, and it would seem she is willing to take out her hatred of me on my son. Albus Dumbledore in his _infinite_ wisdom decided to place my Harry here, why I haven't the foggiest idea. Rest assured that once that old man crosses over, the two of us are going to have _words_."

Voldemort shuddered and was secretly glad that the witch wasn't talking about him. He didn't think he had ever seen such hatred on anyone's face before. Not even on his own.

"Fortunately for Harry, I planned ahead," Lily went on, calming herself with some difficulty. "And this is where you come in," she added, giving Voldemort another sweet, untrustworthy smile.

Voldemort retreated a few steps, just to be on the safe side. Who knew what this clearly deranged woman was capable of?

"As I said, I struck a deal, and until Harry is of age, you are charged with his welfare. And to ensure that you take your responsibility seriously, you will feel every discomfort and every pain, no matter how small, that is inflicted on him."

The Dark Lord shuddered. He would feel Potter's pain? At least that explained why he felt as if he hadn't eaten in a week.

Hit with a sudden realisation, Voldemort stuck his head into the cupboard for a brief peek, pulling his head back out as swiftly as he could. Yep, that would explain why his private parts felt so... disgusting.

"What, exactly, is it you want from me?" Voldemort asked, resigning himself to his fate.

"You killed me," Lily spat furiously, looking as if she wished she had access to her wand. "You killed me because of some half-baked prophecy you were informed of. You didn't even bother to learn what the entire thing said, no you just had to act like a rash Gryffindor, didn't you? Rushing ahead like that, no plan, no forethought, what were you thinking?

"Because of that, my son is left alone in this world, with no one to speak up for him. That, Mr I-am-a-fearsome-Dark-Lord, is what you are going to do. You are going to ensure that my son is treated right, or you will suffer along with him!" Lily snarled, glowering darkly at Voldemort, her right hand twitching alarmingly.

Lily was about to continue lambasting her killer, but paused and cocked her head to the side before another word was uttered. Giving Voldemort a disgusted look, she grudgingly admitted, "My time here is up. You better take care of my son, Tom Riddle, or I will make your afterlife _hell_."

With those ominous words ringing in the silent room, Lily began to glow and then she disappeared in a shower of sparks.

Alone again, it didn't take the Dark Lord long to regain his composure. Sneering at the cupboard where the Mudblood's brat was sleeping, Voldemort had every intention of leaving and never coming back. What did he care if Potter was suffering or not? Let the brat be abused by his relatives. If he was fortunate, the Muggles would do his work for him.

Smirking, Voldemort prepared himself to head for Malfoy Manor to attempt to get hold of his right hand man. However, as he was about to leave, something came alive around him, locking him in place.

"What magic is this?" Voldemort snarled, testing the wards surrounding him carefully. He received no reply, but for the briefest of moments a picture of Lily Potter flashed through his mind.

So, it would seem the witch had managed to pull of some impressive magics. Something that should not be possible considering her diluted and dirty blood. Now what was he supposed to do?

Sulking, Voldemort hovered before the cupboard that was the Potter brat's home. He didn't want to take care of the boy. Why should he? The two of them were mortal enemies. The boy held the powers to bring about Lord Voldemort's downfall for Salazar's sake.

Still, no matter how much he hated to admit it, the Mudblood had a point. He had acted a bit rash when it came to the prophecy. Perhaps it would have been better if he spent some time researching it first. Maybe this entire fiasco could have been prevented if he had. At the very least, he would not be stuck here, in a Muggle house, charged with caring for the son of his enemies.

Sighing, Voldemort resigned himself to his fate. He would look after the brat. Or rather, he would terrorize the Muggles into doing it for him. And once he was free to leave this wretched place, he would find out what Lily had done, locate the loophole that was sure to be there, and then he would find a way to kill the boy. If for no other reason than to punish the Mudblood who had dared to attempt to best him.

No one bested the Dark Lord Voldemort. Lord Voldemort ruled others; he did not serve. Especially not bloody _Mudbloods_.

Rubbing his incorporeal hands together, Voldemort began to search the house, looking for the one who dared to mistreat a wizard. Oh, but he could have some fun with this. If nothing else, it should act like a great stress relief. Torture had always worked wonders to cheer him up. Cackling evilly, Tom Riddle set about to terrorise the foolish Muggles, never realising the scope of the task he had just accepted. It would be many, long years before Voldemort was able to leave the home of Vernon and Petunia Dursley.

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><p><strong>AN:** Someday I will probably continue this story, making it a real story and not just a shorty. Once I have managed to figure out how to keep the POV Voldemort's and not Harry's that is. I also need to decide how much of Harry's childhood to describe, and what Voldie will be capable of doing to punish those who hurt Harry. Sounds easy, but it isn't, at least not at this time. And since I'm swamped with other stories to finish I will leave this one like this for now.

If anyone wants to adopt this story and continue it you are welcome to do so, just drop me a line and tell me where you post as I'd love to read it.

Until Then...

Janara


	2. I Must Tell No Lies

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Harry Potter, alas.

**A/N:** Since FFnet currently has issues with my computer I am unable to upload new stories. So, I have decided to make a haven for my short stories, gathering them here until the issue is fixed. I hope you will enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Janara

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><p><em>I Must Tell No Lies.<em>

Studying his so-called Defence Professor, Harry came to the conclusion that something needed to be done if he was to survive this school year. If his detentions with this woman were an indication, then Umbridge wished him harm in a major way.

But what could he do? Turning to McGonagall for help had been useless. As he should have expected, but Harry actually thought his Head of House would be there for him this time. But McGonagall hadn't even allowed him to finish his complaint before cutting him off with a stern lecture.

No, as usual he was on his own, and for once Harry was unsure how to proceed. How was he to stop the toad before she permanently scarred him? Just what was it she wanted from him?

_Well, I guess there is only one way for me to find out,_ Harry mused as the bell rang, signalling the end of the class. _I have to actually ask her. I wonder if she will bother to answer me?_

"Mr Potter, what can I do for you?" Umbridge asked in her sickenly sweet voice that caused Harry's teeth to ace.

"I was wondering what the point of your detentions are, Professor," Harry replied, trying his best to look both harmless and clueless, figuring the... woman would be more direct if she considered him unworthy of her time.

"The _point_, Mr Potter, is for you to stop telling lies and upsetting dear Cornelius. I understand that it is a difficult concept for you to understand, but as Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge has many important things to tend to, and your lies have distressed him greatly."

"Huh," Harry murmured, feeling the embers of a great idea take root in his brain. He would have to do some careful thinking, and, he hated to think it, some research.

"I understand, Professor, thank you for taking the time to explain it to me," Harry said, legging it out of the classroom as quickly as he could.

oOo

Looking around the Great Hall at all the students eating their breakfast, Harry tried to see if anyone was missing. Coming to the conclusion that he didn't know the student body well enough to know, Harry mentally shrugged his shoulders and rose to his feet. All his year mates were present at least, that would have to be good enough.

Stepping onto his seat, Harry looked out over the Great Hall, smiling slightly when he realised that he already had everyone's attention.

"God morning. A few days ago, I approached Professor Umbridge, asking her what would stop her from torturing me during her detentions.

"The good professor informed me that the only way to stop that was to stop telling lies, so here goes." Harry took a deep breath and pulled out his wand, aiming it towards the ceiling. "I, Harry James Potter, swear on my magic that Cedric Diggory was killed by Peter Pettigrew. So mote it be."

Taking another deep breath, Harry focused and intoned, "Expecto Patronum," smiling slightly when Prongs appeared.

Dismissing the Patronus, Harry continued to the next point he wanted to make. "I, Harry James Potter, swear on my magic that I witnessed the ritual that gave Lord Voldemort his body back. So mote it be," Harry intoned, once again casting the Patronus charm, sending a small smirk towards Umbridge, let her accuse him of telling lies now.

Taking yet another, deep, steadying breath, Harry once more began to speak, his words ringing clearly in the silence that had befallen the Great Hall. "I, Harry James Potter, swear on my magic that Lord Voldemort's birth name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. And that Tom Marvolo Riddle's father was a Muggle. So mote it be."

Looking around the room, Harry openly smirked as he cast the Patronus charm for the third time.

A shocked gasp was torn from every throat as Prongs once again appeared in all his glory.

"Why don't you all stew on _that_," Harry snapped as he jumped off his seat.

Picking up his book bag, Harry left the Great Hall, his head held high, his back straight and proud, completely ignoring the pandemonium breaking out behind him.


	3. Storm In A Teacup

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, sad sigh.

**A/N:** This story is a collaboration between myself and my mother. I would write one sentence/paragraph and she would write the next, sending the story back and forth between us. We actually had great fun and plan on writing more such stories in the future. I hope you will enjoy this one as much as we did.

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><p><em>Storm In A Teacup<em>

"Bloody hell, I've had had enough of this shit," Harry Potter grumbled as he trudged into the Gryffindor common room.

"Harry James Potter, mind your language!" Hermione shrieked, glaring hotly at her best friend. "There are children present. And by the way, you can't talk like that," she added with a dark glower.

Harry first froze in shock, then he glowered right back at the girl. "First, my language wasn't _that_ bad. Two, you haven't a clue what I was complaining about so what gives you the right to dictate what I can or cannot say?"

Hermione huffed and stuck her chin out stubbornly. "It was obvious what you were complaining about. The same thing you are always complaining about, the war. But Harry, you are an icon, the hope of the people, how do you think they feel when they hear you talking like that? If you complain and sound like you are ready to give up, how do you expect them to stand against You Know Who, huh? Did you think about _that_?" Hermione asked righteously.

Harry could only gape at his, obviously, very demented friend. Then he closed his mouth with a snap and started to get angry. "How the hell would you know what I was talking about, Hermione? Maybe I was sick and tired of all the Quidditch practises we've had lately? Especially with the weather we've been suffering these past weeks? Or maybe I was talking about the meals served in the evenings? I don't know what's up with the House-elves, but they've been serving the same damned things for a damned _month_! Why can't they serve things like pizza every once in a while? And how _dare_ you claim that all I think or talk about is the war!" Harry asked hotly, starting to see red. This time Hermione had gone too far, way, _way_ too far.

"Don't be silly, Harry, of course the war is occupying most of your time. Which is understandable, although it isn't doing your grades any good, but that can be excused I'm sure. Then again, it wouldn't hurt you to put a _bit_ more effort into your homework," Hermione said thoughtfully, completely missing the signs of the impending eruption of Mount Harry Potter.

"What is pizza? Is it really something that you can eat?" Ron asked, butting in, proving that he, as usual, was only listening to the parts of the conversation that interested him. "Then again, I'm not sure I want to eat something called Pizza. What is it anyway?" Ron added, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Everyone among those gathered around the Golden Trio who had knowledge of the wider world outside of wizarding Britain giggled at the look on the redhead's face

"Ron, honestly, don't you think about anything but your stomach?" Hermione snapped angrily. "Or should that be _with_ your stomach?" she added scornfully.

"There you go again, deciding what other people can and cannot think. Honestly, Hermione, just who do you think you are? Do I have to get sanction from you before I can utter any thought or belief I have? Who died and appointed you the approval committee of the Boy Who Lived?" Harry asked, a foreboding look on his face.

"Really, Harry, what has gotten into you? I don't dictate what you can or can't say," Hermione stated in outrage. "But you can't deny that you do have an image you need to uphold, and coming in here, sounding like you are ready to throw in the towel is _not_ doing your image any good, nor is it helping the morale among the students."

Harry glowered. "Do you know me so little?" he asked softly, wondering just when Hermione had lost her mind.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry, I'm your best friend, of course I know you better than most," Hermione replied, completely missing the point Harry was trying to make.

"Hey! What about me? I'm Harry's best mate!" Ron protested angrily, upset that Hermione was trying to push him out of the one spot that belonged to him and him alone.

Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Don't be absurd, Ron. You are Harry's best _male_ friend, while I am his best _female_ friend," she lectured patronisingly.

Ron considered the answer carefully before grinning wildly, uttering a happy, "That's alright then," as he turned back to his chess game.

"Honestly, that boy need to grow up. Can't he think about anything but chess, Quidditch, and food? Why can't he put as much effort into his schoolwork? His grades are _atrocious_." Hermione muttered under her breath, not intending for anyone to hear her. Unfortunately for her, Harry did and he erupted.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Hermione? What right do you have dictating what Ron and I should be thinking? Or feeling? Or doing? Who gave you permission to rule our lives as if we were your sovereign subjects? For that matter how _dare_ you sneer and look down on us if we do something you do not approve of? And who the _hell_ do you think you are treating Ron and I the way you do? What, can no one have a thought or opinion unless you have approved it first? Just how long does your rule reach? Is it only Ron and I, your supposed best friends? Although why anyone would want to be friends with a dictator like you I have absolutely no idea right now," Harry muttered, monetarily sidetracked by his own thoughts.

"Harry! How can you say something so awful?" Hermione whispered, growing deathly pale at the accusations that had just been hurled at her.

"And there she goes again, telling Harry what he can or cannot say," Seamus said with a gusty sigh, hamming it up for the crowd.

"I. Do. Not!" Hermione shouted, rounding on the Irishman.

"Yeah, you do, although it is a relief, sort of, to know that I'm not the only one you are bossing around, Hermione. And I would still like to know on whose authority you are doing so. Certainly not mine," Harry said, folding his arms across his chest in hopes that would stop him from throttling the annoying girl.

Hermione forced herself to calm down and think rationally. She was not going to allow Harry to win this fight. Just who did he think _he_ was, calling her bossy and dominant. She wasn't like that. She _wasn't_.

Taking a deep breath, praying for patience, Hermione somehow managed to put a smile on her face. "Don't be silly, Harry. I do _not_ dictate what you and Ron should be thinking or feeling, but you can't deny that I am the smartest, most talented, student at Hogwarts, which means that I know more than you. If you had bothered to pay attention in class, then your grades would be better, and you would realize that I do know what I am talking about, and that I do have your best interest at heart-"

"Meaning that we should all just do what you say and the world will become a paradise, right?" Harry asked sarcastically. "Funny, I never realized that you wanted to become a world leader, Hermione, no wonder you are always dictating what Ron and I should do. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I have no intentions to bow down before your feet. I won't do it for Voldemort, I sure as hell won't do it for _you_."

"Harry! How dare you compare me to Voldemort? I'm nothing like that madman. And I do _not_ dictate how you should act!" Hermione cried, tears springing to her eyes due to the horrible accusation Harry was making. She wasn't like You Know Who. All she was trying to do was looking out for her best friends. If she was trying to emulate anyone it was Albus Dumbledore, not… _Voldemort_.

"I agree that Harry went a _little_ bit overboard when he compare you do He Who Must Not Be Named, but… I'm sorry, Hermione, but _everyone_ knows who holds the reins when it comes to the Golden Trio," Neville said, giving Harry an apologetic look.

"I don't!" Hermione exclaimed.

Scornful snorts and jeers were her only reply.

"I _don't_!" Hermione shouted, actually stamping her foot in her annoyance.

"You don't come right out and say it, but you sure as hell think it, Hermione," Lavender retorted. "And it is obvious that you look down on Parvati and me because we are interested in fashion and clothes. But may I point out that both of us are doing well in most of our classes, the ones that are important to us, anyway, and that we are planning on opening a clothes shop once we've graduated. We have everything planned out, and have even sorted out how to get the money we need," Lavender said, giving Harry a grateful look. "Heck, even Gringotts approve of our plans and agree that our budget is looking promising for the first three years.

"What are your plans for after Hogwarts, little miss genius? What are you going to do once you've graduated little miss I-know-everything-better-than-everyone-else? I sincerely hope that you aren't planning on working at the Ministry of Magic because you won't stand a chance," Lavender ended her tirade smartly.

"Why wouldn't I stand a chance?" Hermione asked haughtily, giving her dorm mate a weak copy of Snape's Glare of Death.

"Because the Ministry only employ those who can trace their magic back at least eight generations, Hermione," Neville replied. "Oh, you might be able to get employed as a secretary, or as an archivist for one of the more obscure and unimportant departments, or even as a janitor. But all other positions are filled with Purebloods. Now and then a Halfblood with the right connections can get their foot in, but a Muggleborn? No, sorry to burst your bubble, Hermione, but you don't stand a chance."

"Is this true?" Hermione whispered in horror, looking frantically at those who had gathered to witness the confrontation. "But... McGonagall said..."

"Let me guess, your parents were reluctant to let you go to Hogwarts, right?" someone asked, Hermione couldn't tell who at the moment, her mind was spinning too much from her earlier shock. "That is a common argument the professors reverts to give the family the impression that Hogwarts is the starting point of a good, even grand, career.

"Neville is right, you know, right now the only higher up in the Ministry who isn't a Pureblood is the liaison between Gringotts and the Ministry, and he only holds that position because no one else wants it. No Pureblood wishes to sully themselves by being in constant contact with beings they consider inferior."

"You are lying," Hermione whispered, refusing to believe that her dreams were based on a lie. "No! You are wrong! You have to be!"

"Most of the gathered teens shook their heads and Neville said, "How come you haven't researched this yourself, you who claim you know everything? You've been part of the magical world how long now? And you haven't realized that most of the Purebloods are bigoted? Especially against Muggleborns? Did you honestly think that they would bow down before you and willingly open doors for you just because you are the one with the best grades of our year? Try and be a little realistic, would you?" Neville said with a shake of his head.

"Did you at least research what qualifications you'd need to work at the Ministry?" Seamus asked when it was clear that all Hermione could do was stand there and splutter in outrage. "No? Tell me you at least researched what departments the Ministry consists of and where the various departments would take you if you should get a job there. I can see on your face that you didn't. So you honestly thought that you could just waltz up to the Ministry of Magic and demand a job and they would give it to you? I have to agree with Harry, just who do you think you are?"

Sounding like a wounded animal, Hermione pushed her way through the gathered crowd and rushed for her dorm. Everyone could hear her heart wrenching sobs before the door was slammed shut, cutting off all sounds.

"So… what do you plan to do after graduation?" Lavender asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the common room.

"Both the Potter and Black families have been left without supervision for too long and it will take me _years_ to sort it all out," Harry said with a soft groan, rubbing at his temple as he could feel a headache forming at the mere thought of the gigantic mess he had inherited.

"I'm in the same position," Neville admitted with a gusty sigh. "Grans did the best she could to keep on top of things, but she is getting on in years. Not to mention that to her everything stopped the day her son ended up in St Mungo's. She… hasn't taken much interest since that day so I too have quite the mess to sort through.

"But once our affairs is in order I plan on opening a nursery specializing in rare plants and herbs," Neville added, sounding very upbeat and cheerful about his ultimate goal in life.

"I've been accepted at the Muggle art academy in London," Dean said, looking happy. "I've also made contact with a Potions apprentice and we plan on forming a partnership once we've finished our studies. I'm going to do the actual painting and she will provide me with the paints and other needed potions.

"In the old days artists created some amazing artwork in our world, yet these days they seem to be a dying breed. Our dream is to revitalize the magical art world. If they could do it, then, by George, we can too," Dean added, a determined look on his face.

"Our family originates from a small town in Ireland famous for its breweries," Seamus said, eliciting snickers from everyone who knew him and his love of strong spirits. "One of my cousins is running one of them and I am going to apprentice to him once I've finished Hogwarts. I'm going to make the world's best liquor, just you wait until you've tasted it, you won't believe your taste buds," he bragged, earning more laughter from the crowd, but not one of them doubted his words.

"Then I guess we all have something to look forward too," Harry said with a grin. Casting a glance at the oblivious redhead, who was still playing his chess game, death and blind to the world, Harry couldn't help but frown. "Does anyone know what Ron plans to do after Hogwarts? He claims that he wants to be a professional Quidditch player. I know his dream is to lead his beloved Chudley Cannons to winning the League, but I never see him practice. Oliver spent all his spare time on a broom, always seeking to improve himself, always acting as if scouts were spying on him, just waiting to recruit him for their team."

The boys shook their heads while the girls shrugged their shoulders.

"He is talking about becoming an Auror too, but he never puts any effort into his schoolwork so he won't have the grades needed," Seamus said somewhat reluctant.

Silence descended over the room as everyone considered their two unfathomable classmates.

"Say Harry, what were you grumbling about when you entered the common room?" Neville asked when he no longer could hold his curiosity back.

Harry looked embarrassed and ran a hand through his hair. "It was nothing, really," he muttered. "We had Quidditch practice for three bloody hours. It is raining cats and dogs, and the rain and the winds made it next to impossible to stay on your broom, not to mention that you couldn't bloody see anything and it was all a big waste of time.

"Then, when we were finally done and entered the castle, we were met by the bloody caretaker and his thrice damned cat. He immediately began to berate us and threatened to put us in detention for the rest of the year for tracking water and mud on his precious floors. We hurried to dry our clothes and clean his floor but was he satisfied? Noooo, he went on and bloody on about not being allowed to use magic in the corridors and what not. We hurried off but we could still hear him several corridors away.

"The others went to the kitchen for some hot cocoa, but I was too tired and cold and plain annoyed and just wanted to grab a hot shower and some clean, warm clothes. _That_ was what I was complaining about when I came in here. And now, if there is no more drama to be had, I'm going to take that shower, and any one bothering me can be expected to be cursed into the next week, fair warning!"

Delivering his salvo, Harry headed off for his much awaited shower, the other students parting for him, watching silently as he disappeared into the dorm.

"Well…" Neville uttered, falling silent again as he realized that all the previous drama had been nothing but a storm in a teacup.

Slowly, the same realization dawned on the others and the resulting laughter managed to make Ron to look up from his chess game, demanding to know what was so funny.


	4. The Importance of Loopholes

**A/N**:This is the second collaboration between my mother and I. We think the story came out okay, we hope you will think so too.

**Disclaimer**: We do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

><p><em>The Importance of Loopholes.<em>

"Harry, when are you going to propose to me?" Ginny asked, pressing close to the man she loved, running her fingers up and down his arm in what she thought was a seductive way.

"Hmm, did you say something?" Harry asked absentmindedly, taking a few steps to the side to get away from those wandering fingers that did nothing but annoy him.

Ginny could only stand there and stare, her mouth falling open. Had Harry truly done that to her? To _her_? Feeling indignation fill her, Ginny closed her jaw with a snap and folded her arms across her chess, fighting hard not to stamp her foot. According to her mother, stamping ones foot wasn't a habit a dignified Lady Potter should indulge in, but if a situation deserved a good foot stamping it was this one. "Harry, I _said_, when are you going to propose to me?" Ginny asked through gritted teeth, moving to block his way when it looked like the love of her life wasn't going to stop.

Looking up from his book, Harry cast a swift glance around. Ginny had been clever when choosing her spot for this confrontation. The Gryffindor common room was filled with students of all ages who all had stopped whatever they were doing and turned their attention to the upcoming altercation between the two upper years.

Thanks to Ginny's bragging, everyone knew who Harry Potter intended to marry, and yet not as much as a whisper had been heard about a wedding. Maybe Ginny's future nuptials wasn't as secured as the redhead liked to boast? What did this mean for their saviour? What did this mean for them and their chances to snag the Boy Who Lived to Conquer?

Sighing softly, Harry snapped his book shut, realising that it would be some time before he could get back to it, and turned to address the common room.

"Everyone here has seen me walk around dressed in rags that are too large, correct?" Harry asked, deciding to go for shock value. Besides, he no longer felt ashamed for the way he had dressed, having coming to terms with the abuse the Dursleys had heaped onto him while growing up.

"Some of you might have gotten the idea that I like things that are second hand. I can inform you that I don't. Don't get me wrong, if you can't afford new things, then hand-me-downs are nothing to be ashamed off. But that doesn't mean that you have to like it, and I never enjoyed wearing my cousin's overlarge castoffs.

"Unfortunately, at the time, there was nothing I could do about it, so I wore them and focused on other, more important things. Today, however, is an entirely different matter, and I can afford clothes of good quality that are new, that fit, and, even better, I am the master of my own destiny. Which means that I will never again settle for second best.

"This is _especially_ true when it comes to my future wife. To put it plain in words that _everyone_ can understand, I simply refuse to marry someone impure to be the mother of my future children."

Ginny's jaw dropped open once more. "I... you... _what_?" she finally managed to shriek, knowing fully well that Harry had just grossly insulted her by accusing her of being a... a... Ginny shuddered, she couldn't even _think_ the word, and yet she couldn't believe that he had actually stood there and calmly insulted her like... _that_.

"I belong to one of the oldest families of our world," Harry explained patiently, giving Ginny a pitying look. "That means that I need to think not only about myself but my future descendants as well.

"Which means that I can't chose a woman of loose morals to be my wife. And before you open your mouth to protest in a shrilly voice, might I remind you of the numerous occasions you've sat in this very room making out with various males, not caring who saw what you were doing. I shudder to think what you've been doing with them away from prying eyes.

"And, yes, I am well aware that you've been seen emerging from a number of broom closest as well, so I _know_, as does most of the school, that you've been up to all sorts of naughty fun," Harry stated, giving the fuming Ginny a deliberate leer before turning deadly serious.

"Well, that fun comes with a price, and that price is that I will not chose you for my future wife," Harry said with finality, expecting the subject to be dropped.

"Harry!" Ginny cried mortified, her cheeks blushing with a mixture of shame and fury. "How can you stand there and say such horrible things?"

"It was easy, because you made it easy," Harry said with a shrug. "It is possible you'restill pure as snow and that your virtue is still intact, but your reputation sure as hell is shot to pieces and I doubt any man of worth is willing to marry you now.

"Remember," Harry cut in when it looked like Ginny was about to protest, "you are judged by the way you act. Considering the things that have happened to me during my time at Hogwarts you should be well aware how little it takes for a rumour to get out of hand.

"Anyway, this is something your parents should have taught you before sending you off to school, it is a pity they didn't. And it is a double pity that your brothers don't care enough about you to put a word in your ear," Harry said with another shrug, resuming his trek for the dorm, his mind once again on the book he'd been studying.

For the briefest of moments a total silence befell the common room, but it didn't last very long as the present Gryffindors began to whisper among themselves. A few sided with Ginny, but most of them didn't, and not only because this meant that they would have a chance at snagging Harry Potter. It didn't take long before they were not-so-silently recalling the many times they'd witnessed the redhead making out with this boy or that.

But all that was overshadowed by the eruption of Mount Ronald, the belatedly worried older brother. "You bastard!"

"Why am I not surprised, Ron?" Harry asked tiredly, turning around to face his so-called best friend. "You have this nasty habit of blaming others when you yourself is at fault. But you can't possibly put the blame at _my_ feet this time. Why didn't you care when Ginny was making a spectacle of herself? Where were your concern _then_, eh, _mate_?"

"I'm going to kill you," Ron roared, charging towards his best friend who was refusing to do right by Ginny. How dare Harry turn Ginny down? How dare he imply that Ron's sister wasn't good enough for Harry Potter? What did it matter if Ginny had had other boyfriends? It wasn't as if she'd been cheating on him since they'd been broken up for ages and ages.

Harry snorted. "Voldemort couldn't kill me, Ron, what makes you think that you can? But if you should miraculously manage where older and better wizards than you have failed, it won't do you any good.

"If something should happen to me, proof will be sent out immediately, proof that you and your _dear_ sister has attempted to dose me with Amortentia. Your pathetic attempt failed, partly thanks to my Potter family ring that warned me each and every time my food and drink was tampered with, and partly because you can't be subtle if your life depended on it. I guess that explains why you were sorted into Gryffindor. You really should pay more attention to the twins, Ron, you could learn a lot from them, and not only how to become successful," Harry said with a sneer, sick and tired of Ron's attitude towards him and how he was forever running hot and cold. Honestly, when was Ron going to grow the hell up?

"By the way, who thought up that lovely little scheme? My money is on Hermione, am I right? Although her ideas usually aren't that clumsy and ham-handed, but use a potion that is ridiculously difficult to brew is something she would do," Harry mused, glancing over to where the girl in question was standing, wringing her hands in her distress.

"Why do you think that?" Neville asked, completely ignoring Ron who was still spluttering various threats in the background.

"Because she's done it before," Harry replied calmly, a somewhat wistful smile on his face.

"When?" Neville asked curiously.

"In our second year, when everyone thought I was the heir of Slytherin. We decided that the best way to find out the truth was to spy on the Slytherins, namely Draco, so we brewed a batch of Polyjuice and Ron and I went in as Crabbe and Goyle.

"We didn't learn anything useful, unfortunately, but we did try," Harry said with a small laugh, ignoring the hissing coming from Hermione for outing that little secret.

"Besides, who is always boasting about being the smartest witch in school? Who is the one that always knows the best? Hermione Granger. But for all her book smarts, she isn't very people smart," Harry went on, getting more than one nod in agreement from his audience.

"I mean, how many friends does she have here at Hogwarts? Me and Ron, possibly Ginny as well. She positively despises her dorm mates, constantly looking down on them for being interested in boys and fashion. Not that I can understand such interests, but each to their own, I always say," Harry said with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"All Hermione lives for is her books and her grades. But she isn't interested in sharing her knowledge, no, she takes far too much enjoyment from lording her superiority over others. No wonder the rest of the school keeps as far away from her as possible. Then again, after seeing the way she is always bossing me and Ron around... I mean, who'd want to be friends with that?

"So is it any wonders that Hermione would go for the complicated, not to mention the illegal, way when needing a solution to a thorny problem? Merlin forbid that she actually talk to me and _ask_ me why I don't want to date Ginny.

"Then again, considering the level of maturity and intellect Ron and Ginny shows I don't find it strange that they would go along with Hermione's plan. After all, she knows best, according to her," Harry said with a light sneer, "so _of course_ she knows how to handle matters of the heart."

"As it turns out, the Potters have rather strict rules when it comes to who is allowed to pick up the mantle as Head of the family.

"One of the rules is that the chosen bride is pure and without blemish. In other words, no Amortentia, and no making out with other boys," Harry said giving Ginny a meaningful eye.

"Should I have the appalling bad sense of marrying such a woman the Potter family magic will react and strip me of most of my inheritance. No lordship, the seat on the Wizengamot, and hardly no money.

"The only thing I will get is a small cottage situated in the south of Wales and ten thousand Galleons that is to last me my entire life. According to the family magics that is the foundation for me to build my own fortune, since I am not worthy to inherit the fortune my forefathers amassed.

"Apparently, one of said forefathers all but ruined the family and measure was put in place to ensure that it could never happen again. So tell me, Ginny, why in the world would I want to marry you when it would spell ruin for me and my children?" Harry asked, curious to hear what possible answer the redhead could come up with to counter his, valid, objections.

"But... You love me," Ginny cried, stamping her foot in anger.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "Where did you get that ridiculous idea from? Maybe if I did love you I wouldn't mind living as an outcast for the rest of my life, but since I don't love you I see no reason to cast my inheritance aside. Hell, I haven't spoken two words to you in... in... just how long has it been?" Harry mused to himself trying to recall just when he had last truly spoken to Ginny. It wasn't during the summer after Dumbledore's funeral. It wasn't during the hellish year he had been hunting down Voldemort's Horcruxes. It wasn't before or after the final battle; and it wasn't during the time he went back for his seventh year of schooling at Hogwarts. And since the winter break was all but upon them there had been plenty of opportunity for Ginny to approach him.

_I guess the last time the two of us truly talked to each other was during Dumbledore's funeral when we decided to break up. Or, well, I decided we should break up. I just thought she was mad at me for not taking her with me, but... Ah well, I guess it doesn't really matter. I haven't really missed her so I guess what we had wasn't the true love I thought it was. _

_Besides, Ginny hasn't exactly been celibate during the time we were apart, and she expects me to marry her? No way. I am never settling for second hands ever again_, Harry thought mulishly, being abruptly brought back to reality by the fist heading for his nose.

Harry had built up a surprisingly good awareness of his surroundings over the years, and was used to duck unexpected attacks. Vernon, and Dudley especially, had taught him that lesson well from an early age. Quidditch had continued to hone that skill during the many gruelling hours of practice his Quidditch captains had forced upon him.

So when a fist came towards his nose, Harry reacted without thinking by twisting his head slightly to the side, causing the fist to sail by without doing any harm. By taking a small sidestep, Harry avoided the body following the fist, positioning him in the perfect spot to deliver a swift rabbit punch to the ribs followed by a two handed punch to the kidneys when his assailant doubled over, and before the attack had really started it was over.

"Did you really think it would be that easy, Ron?" Harry asked scornfully. "I suppose it was too much to expect that you would manfully accept your part in this fiasco, since that would imply that you are a man and not a snivelling coward who blames everyone but yourself for your own screw-up's. Well this is one mess you can't whine, hex, or curse your way out of," Harry all but snarled.

Ron didn't answer him, he was too busy lying in a heap on the floor, moaning in pain.

Harry sneered, "You Weasleys claim that family means everything to you, but it looks like it's only lip service to you. Ginny has had four older brothers attending school with her, but I have yet to see a single one of you actually care for her or check up on her to see if there are any problems she needs help with. Maybe the events of our second year wouldn't have been so grim if a single one of you had bothered to do your duty as her older brothers. But no, she was an embarrassment to you then, wasn't she, Ron?

"And you certainly have never cared about her reputation before. Did you honestly think that I would marry her just because she is a Weasley? Because she is the sister of my supposed best friend? So it wouldn't matter what she did, because her future was secure? Well, I hate to burst your bubble, Ron, but life isn't that neat, and I won't step in and rescue her this time. You have all made your bed, and now you have to lie in it."

Ron tried to get a word in, he really did, but his back hurt, his ribs hurt, and he just couldn't get the needed air to do more than groan pitifully. Fortunately, for him, someone was more than willing to pick up his slack.

"Harold James Potter! How dare you!" Hermione shrieked, looking like she wanted to claw Harry's eyes out. "How dare you say such horrible things? How dare you attack someone who has done nothing but help and support you? And how _dare_ you accuse Ginny of being a scarlet woman? Have you no shame? No sense of honour?"

Harry snorted. "And here comes little miss I-know-best-so-you-better-do-as-I-say to the rescue. Done nothing but help and support me? Honestly, Hermione, if I were you I'd go see Pomfrey and ask her check you for spells, compulsions, and potions. Clearly someone has been messing with your mind."

"How dare you!" Hermione hissed but before she could get up to a good rant Harry interrupted her.

"May I remind you of our fourth year, Hermione? Just who was it that spent most of the year believing that I had put my name into the Goblet of Fire? Hmm? Or how about our 'lovely' Ronnikins behaviour last year?" Harry asked, allowing himself a wicked smirk when Hermione squirmed uncomfortably.

"Just who was it that ran home to mummy to be babied when our 'adventure' turned out to be not so adventurous after all? Who was it that ate all our supplies? Who was it that whined and moaned? Who was it that all but struck you when things didn't go his way?

"You know, I actually considered proposing to you, Hermione," Harry said musingly. "You had always been a great friend to me, albeit a bit bossy one now and then, but I figured I could put up with that, especially since you didn't outright judge me when something screwy occurred, but usually asked me first what had happened.

"But you lost all my respect when you slept with Ron. Especially _after_ he almost beat you to a bloody pulp because you dared to stand up for yourself. I hope you won't live to regret your decision. I truly do," Harry stated sombrely.

Hermione squirmed, not sure how to react to what Harry had said. Ron had done all those things, well, apart from hitting her. Ron had never done that. But Harry had been willing to propose to her? She hadn't known that, and now Hermione couldn't help but think of all the things she could have accomplished as the wife of Harry Potter.

But she didn't have long to ponder before Ginny cut into her musings, speaking with a sugary sweet voice. "Haven't you forgotten something, Harry? There is a signed marriage contract that states that we are to be married within a year after my graduation from Hogwarts."

Harry stared at her, then he sighed gustily. "Let me guess, you have a marriage contract that is written by your parents and Albus Dumbledore. Well, congratulation, Ginny, your parents and our former headmaster have just doomed the two of us to a loveless, moneyless life.

"And before anyone gets any bright ideas, should I die before the marriage you won't see a Knut of my fortune. And should I die after the marriage…" Harry laughed, but it was a bitter sound without any humour, "The moment we are married, the Potter estate is put in trust for my future heir, and it can't be any child coming from your womb since you are the reason I lost everything. I can only hope and pray that somewhere out there, is a wizard or witch that still carries Potter blood, enabling them to inherit or the Potter line dies with me.

"Well done, Ginny, just… well done."

"No! You're lying! You just want me to break the contract so that you can marry Hermione!" Ginny shouted, red-faced with fury.

Harry snorted. "Didn't I just tell you that I _don't_ want to marry Hermione any more? That she too lost her chance to become my bride?" He couldn't help but shake his head, did the Weasleys purposely go out of their way to misunderstand what he was saying? He was used to Ron overreacting like this, but Ginny? Then again, she was seeing her dream go up in smoke so he supposed he could understand her unwillingness to face reality.

"As for my inheritance, do you want to come with me to see it? I haven't seen it myself yet, but I understand it is quite a lovely little cottage with four rooms and a kitchen. Unfortunately, it has no indoor plumbing, but I'm sure we can rig something up," Harry said with a smirk.

"The land attached to the cottage isn't big, but it should be able to support a cow or a couple of goats and some sheep. And a vegetable garden of course. We both have descent grades in Herbology so we should be able to make do. I'm sure your mother can give us a tip of two, or maybe Neville will be kind enough to help us set something up.

"At least we shouldn't have to worry too much about a roof over our head or getting food on our table. I hope you weren't expecting more out of life, because that is all I can provide you with. Hopefully, I can get a job as a professional Quidditch player…" Harry mused, trailing off as he considered what careers he'd be suitable for that wouldn't cost him a lot of time or money, since he no longer had an abundance of either.

The common room had been almost unnatural silent during Harry's outburst and now everyone waited to hear Ginny's thoughts on the situation. They didn't have to wait long.

Ginny had, for the second time that day, been reduced to incoherent spluttering while Harry raged about their 'fate', but now Ginny had regain her composure, confident in her belief that all this was nothing but a very poor attempt to get her to back out of the marriage agreement, as if she would ever do something like that.

No, Harry Potter was hers and he would stay hers. Ginny Weasley always got her man and no other harlot would get the chance to even attempt to sink their claws into her man. Still, it would not do for Harry to think it was okay for him to behave in this manner. Clearly, it was time for Mr Potter to learn who was holding the reigns in this marriage.

"You pathetic LIAR!" Ginny yelled, launching herself at Harry, nails and teeth extended, intent on doing as much damage as possible, completely forgetting that she was a witch in her fury.

Sighing heavily, Harry sidestepped the human cannonball, tripping her while he did it so Ginny ended up on the floor, stunned due to the heavy impact. It didn't take her long to get her bearing again, making a second launch at Harry. And a third. And a fourth.

By now Harry was heartily sick of the entire affair so he stunned Ginny on her next attack, petrifying her as an afterthought.

"Mr Potter, what do you think you are doing?" a stern voice asked, aghast.

"I'm demonstrating to my future wife what she has to look forward to once the marriage has taken affect," Harry replied blandly, although still seething with anger.

"Mr Potter! I do not appreciate you attacking your fellow Housemates, ten points from Gryffindor. Now release Ms Weasley this instance," McGonagall snapped, glaring darkly at the boy who had saved them all. Harry might be the saviour of the wizarding world but that did not excuse him from cursing a fellow student. Honestly, James would never have behaved in this manner.

Harry snorted. "Why should I be surprised that you side with the Weasleys, Professor? For your information, no matter how childish it sounds, they attacked me first.

"Not to mention that Ms Weasley just informed me that I am about to lose my entire inheritance thanks to the marriage contract drawn up by her parents and Dumbledore," Harry snapped, quickly reaching the end of his endurance. Merlin, but these people was giving him a headache.

"I find it insulting that none of those writing said contract had the decency to inform me of what they were doing. Not to mention that Albus Dumbledore is not, nor ever has been, my guardian, so by what right did he write this contract? By what right is he trying to dictate my future?" Harry asked, glaring hotly at McGonagall, knowing by her flinch that she had been aware of the contract yet hadn't bothered to inform him of it either.

"I see. Well, to clear the air let me inform you that I find Ginny Weasley to be boorish, brash and immature. She has _no_ restraint or self-control. Whenever things doesn't go her way she blames everyone else while stamping her foot, expecting everyone to just fall over themselves to do her bidding.

"If I am forced to marry her I would have to spend months chastising her, forcing her to grow up. Unlike her family, _I_ will not put up with selfish little brats who can't conduct themselves," Harry said, looking down at the still petrified girl with a dark look.

"And if that wasn't bad enough, Ginny called me a liar and that is something I. Simply. Will. Not. Put. Up. With. But the worst crime of all, at least in my eyes, is that she claims to love me. And yet she spend all her time with other males, making out with them and behaving in a way that is not becoming of a young, Pureblood witch-"

"Oh, Harry, if you were jealous of Ginny spending time with others, then why didn't you just ask her to be your girlfriend again?" Minerva asked softly, going a bit misty eyed as she realized that this whole mess was just a misunderstanding and that Harry was reacting due to unfulfilled emotions of love.

Harry stared at McGonagall, his mouth half-open in his shock. Then he doubled over with hilarity.

Wiping tears from his cheeks, Harry cheerfully informed his professor, "Please, I might have had warmer feelings for Ginny at one point in time, but war, hardships, not to mention Ginny's activities in this very room, have doused any warmer feelings I might have had for her.

"Ginny is nothing but a spoilt little child. Her appearance might be passable, but her inner being is ugly, making Ginny unappealing in my eyes.

"You might think that I am harsh, but, remember, you reap what you sow; I have seen and experienced so much suffering, pain, and even death, during my time here at Hogwarts that I have had to bury my emotions pretty deep just to get by.

"My summers with the Dursleys did nothing to help me cope with the many, _many_ life threatening events I got embroiled in. And my year on the run didn't exactly help much either," Harry said with a heavy sigh.

"Yes, it was war. And yes, many of you here suffered as well, I am not denying that or trying to diminish your experiences. All I am saying is that I need someone who can support me and help me deal with what I went through during the war. I need a mature partner who understand me and who will be there for me just as I am there for them. Someone who can help me feel again.

"I very much doubt that Ginny will be that person for me. Or that she even wants to be that person for me. To her I am the Boy Who Lived. The hero. Dumbledore's Golden Boy. I am not a person to her, I am a symbol, and I have no wish spending the rest of my life living up to her expectations."

"Mr Potter, I have _never_-"

"No, Professor, no more," Harry cut in firmly. "See to the golden princess of your master. Act like the good little doggy you are," Harry added spitefully. "While I will visit Gringotts to see if there is something I can do to salvage my inheritance.

"By the way, Professor, do not expect me to stay. If Dumbledore was willing to screw with me, for the greater good, I shudder to think what his surviving lackeys will do to me to uphold the old man's image of the future."

With that salvo, Harry Potter left the common room, ignoring his spluttering professor's demands that he come back and apologies this instance.

oOo

Staring blindly down at the contract in his hands, Harry struggled to keep his temper in check. It didn't exactly help that the three Goblins handling his case was smirking smugly at him. Clearly they knew what this marriage contract meant for him, and clearly they were enjoying the hell out of his dilemma.

Harry mentally snorted. _I bet this is some twisted payback for us breaking into the bank so that we could grab Hufflepuff's cup,_ Harry thought resentfully. _Well, I'm not beaten yet!_

"Tell me, how is it that Albus Dumbledore could sign a contract for me when he isn't my guardian? For that matter he never was my guardian, magical or otherwise."

If possible the Goblins became even smugger. "It is simple, Mr Potter, Albus Dumbledore signed that contract using your blood. You really should have safe guarded yourself better. If you had bothered with the correct precautions, this could not have happened. But since you clearly didn't bother to protect yourself... that contract is valid and there is no way getting out of it.

"But do not worry, Potter, the Goblins here at Gringotts will take good care of your inheritance until such a time a new heir is found."

Harry merely smiled grimly as he rose to his feet. "I'm sure you will. But until the day of my wedding I'm still in charge of my fortune. I wouldn't make any... lofty plans just yet."

Not bothering being polite, Harry strode out of the office still fighting to keep his temper in check. He would show them all. He hadn't allowed Voldemort to best him, he wasn't about to lose all to Albus blood Dumbledore either. He might have lost this battle, but the war was still on.

Yes, the war was still on.

oOo

"Well?" Ginny demanded the moment Harry returned to Hogwarts three days later.

Smiling tightly, Harry produced two goblets, handing one of them to his bride-to-be. "Yes, Dumbledore arranged a marriage contract between the two of us. No, the Potter Family Magic will not approve of our union, meaning that I will lose my inheritance the moment we are married. Yes, I loath and hate you, but since there is nothing I can do to get out of this marriage, I will do my best to simply grit and bare it.

"Cheers, Ginny, let us drink to our unhappy union," Harry said, holding his goblet up before drinking from it, all too aware of the eyes watching his every move. Harry felt very smug about the fact that he had managed to time his entrance to a time when everyone would be in the Great Hall for a meal.

Ginny struggled to put the goblet down but found that she was unable to. Slowly, moving against her will, Ginny drank the potion down, making a face at the bitter taste.

"What did you give me?" she demanded the moment the magic had released her. "Did you _poison_ me?" Ginny asked shrilly as the pain hit.

Harry snorted. "No, I didn't poison you. Why would I since I would still be bound to you. Not to mention that I have _no_ intention going to Azkaban for your murder. No, I am merely utilising the single loophole Dumbledore's contract left me."

"What loophole? There are no loopholes!" Ginny hissed, hugging her stomach tightly.

"Ah, but there is," Harry replied with a vicious smirk.

"No! You are to marry me a year after I graduate! There is no loophole getting out of that!" Ginny shouted angrily, longing to smack that smug smirk of Harry's face.

"Ah, and that is the very loophole I'm talking about, Ginny. I am to marry you within a year after your graduation. I'm sorry, my dear, but it will be some time yet before you graduate from Hogwarts, or from any school for that matter," Harry said calmly as he watched the witch he had come to hate start to shrink.

"_What?_" Ginny cried in dismay.

"You are being de-aged, Ginny. I hope you will enjoy your second childhood as much as you enjoyed your first one," Harry said happily, giving the shrinking witch a cheerful wave as the magic took hold leaving a wailing baby behind.

"Harry James Potter! How could you!" rang out from several directions but Harry ignored them all.

"Right, with that unpleasant business taken care of, I'm leaving. I came back to Hogwarts to finish my education, wanting to stay at the one place I counted as home for a little bit longer.

"I didn't come here to be betrayed," Harry said giving McGonagall a hard stare. "Or to be stabbed in my back," Harry added, giving Ron and Hermione a dark look. "Or to be gossiped about," here Harry gave the student body a black look.

"Since my home has now been ruined for me I shall set out to look for another one. I hope you all will have a happy life, I know that I won't, not with that horrible marriage contract hanging over my head for the rest of my life. Good bye to all of you," Harry said, calmly heading for the doors, not acknowledging any of the many voices calling for him to wait or to stay.

oOo

Once the door closed behind the departing Boy Who Lived silence fell over the Great Hall.

It was soon interrupted by the angry wail of an unhappy baby.

"I shall inform your parents of what has transpired here, Mr Weasley. Please take care of your sister until they arrive," McGonagall said resignedly, suddenly feeling extremely old and tired.

When Albus had told her of the union he wished to promote, Minerva had seen nothing wrong with it. It was no secret that Ginny loved Harry, and if she was completely honest with herself, seeing that redhead next to Harry brought memories of James and Lily back.

If Harry married Ginny... It would be like James and Lily all over again.

Unfortunately, none of them had taken Harry's wishes in consideration. And now they were paying for the young man's anger.

Molly was not going to be happy about this.

Neither was the magical world when they found out.

But what was done was done and now they would have to live with the consequences. Minerva just hoped that the price wouldn't be too dire.

oOo

Harry James Potter died at the age of 256 surrounded by his children, grand children and numerous great-grand children.

He never did settle down but opted to spend his life moving from place to place, constantly learning new things and seeing new sights.

He never did marry either. Despite the various attempts to thwart him, Harry managed to dose Ginny with de-aging potions at various stages of her life, forcing her to grow up again and again and again.

The Weasleys were not amused.

The wizarding world was.

And since Harry was having his children with different Squibs, Pureblood law could not brand them as bastards since Squibs did not count in Pureblood eyes.

Not that Harry cared about such things, but he did care about his children and wanted to spare them as much hardships as he could.

All in all, Harry Potter lived a long and happy life and he died a content man.

Ginny Weasley did the opposite.

As long as her mother lived, Ginny had a rather good life, surrounded by love and always given everything she wanted. But once her mother died, Ginny was given to her siblings. They didn't mind too much caring for her once, but as she kept being de-aged, their patience grew short, and so did their love and care.

Once Harry died and Ginny was finally allowed to grow up, the redhead found that no one was interested in marrying her. Everyone knew who she was and what her family had tried to do to the Boy Who Lived, the wizard who had come to be the entire magical world's darling.

Ginny ended up spending her life alone at the Burrow, living off the things she herself could grow, aided now and then by her family's charity, which usually kicked in around Christmas, otherwise she was treated like a dirty secret that everyone wished to forget.

As for Harry's children and children's children... They all knew what magical Britain had done to their beloved father/grandfather, and they all vowed to extract revenge.

Becoming adults, they all made sure to gain influential positions around the globe, from which they took great pleasure thwarting magical Britain's various plots and plans, making sure to expose them as the laughing stock they were, until Britain lost all respect and was forced to crawl under a rock to hide.

For as long as Harry's children remembered him and the sufferings he had been forced to endure, not one Dark Lord was allowed to come to power, giving the magical world a long era of uninterrupted peace and prosperity.

As for the next Lord Potter, that honour befell Harry's oldest great grandson, born of his youngest granddaughter and the oldest grandson of Draco Malfoy. Much to the blonds consternation and dismay. But that is another story for another time.


	5. Consequences Of A Hero Complex

_Consequences Of A Hero Complex_

_Or_

_Now What?_

Breakfast was almost over the first day of class of the new school year when the doors to the Great Hall was opened and a group of stern looking wizards and witches entered.

Getting to his feet, Albus Dumbledore gave them a confused look even as he greeted them genially. "Cornelius, Amelia, this is a pleasant surprise, what can I do for you this fine morning?"

"Good morning, Albus; I'm sorry to say, but this is not a social call," Cornelius Fudge replied, puffing out his chest importantly.

"Oh? I hope nothing serious has happened?" Albus retorted, his eyes twinkling merrily despite the shiver of dread that raced up and down his spine.

Amelia Bones rolled her eyes impatiently, not in the mood to listen as the Minister waffled and blathered on and on without ever getting to the point.

"Headmaster, it has been reported that two mass murderers are hiding within this very school," Amelia stated, not caring that she was cutting the Minister of Magic off.

"Excuse me? I must have misheard you," Albus managed to choke out, having a hard trouble hiding his shock. "Mass murderers hiding in Hogwarts? That's preposterous."

"Perhaps so, but considering the threat such men would pose to the students, we felt compelled to come and investigate," Amelia said, glancing around the room filled with children, sending her a niece a small smile, pleased to see that she seemed to be getting along well with her House mates.

"Who made this outlandish claim? And what proof do they have?" Albus demanded once his brain had started working again. Was this yet another attempt by his enemies to discredit him? But why make such a ridiculous claim? Why not use something more believable?

"That would be me, Headmaster," a voice stated, causing just about everyone in the Great Hall to jump in shock as a figure emerged from the shadows. "Ah, my apologies, didn't mean to startle you. Talon Orion Winddancer at your service," the figure said, making a dramatic bow once he was standing before the Head Table.

For a moment the Great Hall was completely silent, then whispers sprang up across the room as the student body began to speak softly among themselves about the stranger that had appeared.

He wasn't tall, but he made a striking figure, dressed all in black as he was. But the most eye-catching thing about him was his hair; it was pure white with ice-blue and purple highlights, reaching well below his shoulder blades.

"You claimed that a mass murderer is hiding within Hogwarts' walls?" Albus asked incredulous, eyeing the stranger up and down, not sure what to think about this turn of event.

"Two mass murderers actually, but, yes, I did," Talon said calmly, not faced at all about the whispering going on around him.

"What proof do you have of this… claim?" Dumbledore asked, his mind busy trying to figure out which one of his enemies had sent this striking young man, and also pondering why the youth would agree to do something like this. As far as Albus knew, he had never set eyes on the boy before.

"Nice of you to ask, Headmaster. The first mass murderer is sitting right there," Talon said, pointing towards the end of the Head Table.

"Sitting right… If you are talking about Severus Snape-" Albus began indignantly, only to be cut off before he could get a good rant going.

"Snape? No, I have no interest in Potions master Snape. Why would I? No, the man I have a quarrel with is the man sitting next to him, Quirinus Quirrell," Talon stated with a ringing voice.

"Quirinus?" Albus echoed weakly, now convinced that this was not a plot hatched by his enemies, but rather the insane ramblings of a mentally disturbed young man. Why Amelia had allowed this farce to get this far, Albus had no idea, but it stopped right now, right here.

"Yes, you. I have to hand it to you, Quirrell, you really had Dumbledore fooled, didn't you? But the charade is over; I know who you met on your travels, and your attempt at immortality ends now," Talon said, his voice stern and laced with power, causing Albus to re-evaluate his earlier supposition.

"Come now, don't be shy," Talon said with a smirk, lifting his wand and making a 'come here' gesture, silently casting a useful little spell, commonly used on errant toddlers when they didn't mind their minders.

Quirrell tried to resist, but the invisible rope tugging him forward was too strong, and in the end he found himself face to face with the annoying brat despite all his struggles.

"Now s-s-see, he-here," he stuttered, but his complaints were cut off when Talon magically lifted him up, turned him around, and none-too-gently set him back down again.

"Right, let's get down to business, shall we? Tom Marvolo Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort, aka You Know Who, aka He Who Must Not Be Named, I call judgment upon you," Talon all but snarled as he unwound the ridiculous turban Quirrell used to hide his passenger.

Albus couldn't help but gasp as he heard the name Tom Marvolo Riddle. Had Tom truly found a way inside the castle? He wanted to stop Winddancer, forbid him to do whatever it was he was planning on doing, but the shock he was feeling caused him to freeze up for a few, crucial seconds and by the time he could move again, could _think_ again, it was too late, the boy had already revealed who it was he was talking about.

For a second time that morning a total silence fell across the Great Hall, and then the screaming began as the student body began to panic. You Know Who was _here_? Had he come to kill them all in their sleep? And the Headmaster _hadn't known_?

"Silence!" Talon roared angrily, never taking his eyes off the face attached to the back of Quirrell's head. "Thank you. As I was saying, Tom Marvolo Riddle, I call judgment upon you for the murder of my parents. May your soul rot in hell."

Voldemort laughed. "Do you honestly believe that you can best _me_?" he asked arrogantly, his raspy voice sending shivers of dread through everyone who heard it but one.

Talon was utterly and completely unimpressed with the display and merely smirked at the Dark Lord. "As a matter of fact, I do," he merely stated smugly, pointing his wand at a point just above Quirrell's head, turning it swiftly in a circular motion while whispering an old cant.

For a moment nothing seemed to happen, and Voldemort let out another raspy laugh thinking the youth had failed in his attempt.

But then a gasp rang out through the Great Hall and everyone's eyes turned towards the vortex that had appeared above the Defence Professor's head. The vortex wasn't big, perhaps the size of a Quaffel, but it was spinning, and picking up more speed for every second that went by. Soon, a miniature tornado was spinning in the air and Voldemort realised what was happening when he felt himself being dragged upwards. The boy was actually trying to force him out of his host.

"Mr Winddancer, what, exactly, do you think you are doing?" Amelia asked, her eyes jumping between the vortex, the ugly face that apparently was You Know Who, and the young man who had called them here to investigate his insane claim.

"I thought that was obvious," Talon replied absentmindedly, his entire focus on maintaining the spell and waiting for the right time to deliver the final strike against old Tommy boy. "I'm putting an end to Tom Riddle."

"Don't call me that!" Voldemort shrieked in fury, glaring hotly at the wizard who dared to defy him like this. "I am Lord Voldemort, and all shall tremble before my might!"

Talon couldn't help but snort. "No matter what you have told yourself, and no matter what lies you filled your followers with, the fact remains that you are Tom Marvolo Riddle, the son of Merope Gaunt, a Squib, and Tom Riddle, a Muggle. No matter what Dark Rituals you have gone through, you cannot change who you were born as, and you were born Tom Marvolo Riddle," Talon said, smirking in satisfaction as the wraith was finally pulled out of Quirrell. In his fury at having his secret exposed to the world Voldemort had forgotten to fight the pull of the spell, delivering himself into Talon's mercy.

"Phew, stubborn fellow, aren't you?" Talon muttered, pulling a vial from one of his pockets. Removing the stopper, the youth sent magic into the rune inscribed onto the bottle before throwing it towards the vortex, watching in satisfaction as it was sucked in, making a face at the screech of pure fury that came from the vortex three seconds later.

Before anyone could demand an explanation, the vortex exploded and something came falling down through the air. Having expected this, Talon was ready to catch it, holding the object up into the air, examining it with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

"What is that?" Amelia asked, wondering if it was safe to handle. And what had happened to You Know Who?

"This is a soul crystal," Talon replied calmly, still admiring the way the sunlight reflected against the pure black glass.

"A soul crystal?" Amelia repeated weakly. Shaking her head Amelia did her best to gather her tattered wits about her. "Mr Winddancer, what exactly did just happen here?"

Glancing towards the Head of the Magical Department of Law, Talon couldn't help but take pity on the confused witch. "When Harry Potter vanquished Tom Riddle that Halloween night, he did just that, he vanquished the Dark Lord. Unfortunately he did not kill him," Talon said calmly, gaining the attention of the entire room.

"Tom Riddle was deathly afraid of one thing, and one thing only. Ironically enough that one thing was death. I say ironically since his fashioned name is French for flight from death. Yes, Tom did his level best to escape death, and his 'brilliant' idea to do that was by creating horcruxes," Talon went on, blithely ignoring the startled gasps coming from several throats.

"A horcrux is an evil thing. They are created by tearing your soul apart and then storing that part in an object. When the curse backfired that night, Voldemort's body was destroyed, but because his soul was still anchored to this plane he did not pass on but continued to exist, although I personally would not care for such an existence," Talon said, wrinkling his nose in disdain.

"Are you telling me that You Know Who _still_ isn't defeated?" Amelia asked incredulously. "He can still come back?"

Talon gave Bones an apologetic look. "I'm afraid so. Although, the chances are slimmer now than before," he added cheerfully, digging into one of his pockets, pulling out another soul crystal which he placed on the Head Table. And then he pulled out another, and another, and another, until five soul crystals were sitting innocently on the table.

"Just how many of those things did he create?" Amelia cried in dismay.

"Seven," Talon replied, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Se-_seven_? Was the man _insane_?"

Talon pondered the question for a moment. "I don't think he was insane in the beginning. But I guess you can only split your soul so many times before paying for the consequences. "Anyway, as you can see there are only two soul pieces left, and I wouldn't worry too much about them since the owners have no idea what they hold in their possession.

"You know where they are?" Amelia and Albus asked sharply in chorus.

"Yes I do, well, not exactly where they are, but I know of their general position, yes," Talon said cautiously, not liking the look in Bone's eyes.

"You will inform me of their location, yes?" Amelia asked, steel in her voice.

"Well, I hadn't planned on doing so, no," Talon said, doing an admirable job of hiding his nervousness.

Amelia smiled, but it was not a nice smile. "We will have to discuss the matter then, but at a later date."

"That's fine with me," Talon replied swiftly, promising himself there and there to keep as far away from Bones as possible. "We still have the matter of mass murdered number two to deal with."

"This is preposterous!" Fudge cried out, finally having regained both his voice and his wits, what little of it there was to find. "You honestly expect me to believe that that was You Know Who? Aurors arrest this lunatic and have him carted off to St Mungo's, the man is clearly insane!"

Talon merely sighed and shook his head. "If you didn't like that revelation, then I very much doubt that you will enjoy this one, Minister," he said, pulling a plump rat from his pocket and holding it up for everyone to see.

"A rat?" Amelia asked flatly, eyeing the animal with distaste.

"Does anyone know how to force an Animagus back to his original form?" Talon asked, ignoring the titters and the incredulous looks he was receiving from just about everyone.

"An Animagus," Fudge snorted. "What next? Albus, do something, our time has been wasted enough, we cannot allow this... idiocy to go on."

Talon snorted and pointed his wand at the rat, clearly enunciating the spell that forced the transformation to revert. Every eye in the Great Hall stared as the rat contorted, and then astonished gasps rang out across the room when the rat disappeared and a man was standing there in its stead.

"Peter Pettigrew!" several shocked voices cried, mostly from the teachers as they had little trouble recognising the boy they had taught some ten years ago.

"Wh-what ha-happened?" Peter asked, looking wildly around the room.

"What happened is that you've been caught, Wormtail. Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you Peter Pettigrew, the true Secret Keeper of James and Lily Potter. Their _true_ betrayer," Talon stated in a ringing voice.

"Rubbish!" Fudge cried, all but stamping his foot in his outrage. "Everyone knows that it was Sirius Black who betrayed the Potters. The man resides in Azkaban as we speak because of his crimes."

"Interesting that you should mention that, Fudge. Yes, Sirius Black is currently in Azkaban for betraying the Potters, and for the _murder of Peter Pettigrew_. And yet Peter Pettigrew is standing here, right before you. Maybe you would already know this, _if you had bothered to give Sirius Black a bloody trial_," Talon all but roared as he got into the Minister's face.

"Sirius Black wasn't given a trial?" Amelia asked sharply.

"No, everyone was so convinced of his guilt that they just shipped him off to Azkaban. Why bother with the truth when gossip is _so_ much juicier," Talon said bitterly.

"Do not worry, Mr Winddancer, you have my word that I will personally get to the bottom of this. If Sirius Black is innocent, then he will be immediately released and the public informed of the miss justice that took place ten years ago," Amelia promised, a fierce look in her eyes.

"Amelia! You can't be serious!" Fudge cried, already seeing the outcry that would take place if this was made public knowledge.

"I can assure you that I most certainly am, Cornelius," Amelia snapped, gesturing for the Aurors to arrest Pettigrew.

"Bu-but," Fudge spluttered, looking between Dumbledore and Bones as if not sure who to turn to first.

"A word of caution, Fudge," Talon said before the Minister could do work himself into a good rant. "Should anything happen to Black, such as him getting 'accidentally' Kissed, I will know who's responsible, and you will not like what I will do to you."

"Are you threatening me?" Cornelius asked incredulous.

"No, just stating a fact," Talon replied calmly, toying with one of the soul crystals.

Cornelius eyed the crystals uneasily, but he refused to be intimidated and told the man as much.

Talon merely smiled a nasty little smile and walked up to Fudge. Bending close he whispered in the odious little man's ear.

No one present could hear what it was he said, but the effect on the Minister of Magic was clear. The man grew deathly pale and he all but ran from the Great Hall in his eagerness to put as much space between himself and Winddancer as possible.

"What in Merlin's name did you say to him?" Amelia asked, torn between worry and amusement. Never had she seen Cornelius move that fast before.

"Oh, I just pointed out that I knew where several of his skeletons are buried," Talon replied with a shrug.

"Well, then, my task here is done so I shall be off. My apologies for disturbing your day, Headmaster. Madam Bones," Talon said, giving Amelia a polite bow before heading towards the doors.

Albus had observed the events as they unfolded, finding some of them amusing and some of them quite disturbing. What worried him was that this young man knew so much about Tom Riddle, and yet Albus knew nothing about him. He should have known who this Talon Winddancer was, but he didn't. More importantly, this Winddancer knew where the remaining Horcruxes were. Albus simply could not allow this intriguing mystery to just walk off.

"A moment please, Mr Winddancer. It seems that I am in need of a new Defence teacher."

"Albus, you can't be serious!" McGonagall cried in dismay.

"Why not? Mr Winddancer has proven that he knows quite a lot about Defence against the Dark Arts, who better to stand in for poor Quirrell until I can find a suitable substitute? Or do you wish to teach Defence for the next few weeks?" Albus asked, his eyes twinkling merrily already knowing what the reply would be.

"Most definitely not! But we know nothing about this... Mr Winddancer," McGonagall said, eyeing the youth distrustfully while clutching at her throat.

"That is easily resolved," Albus said, gesturing towards the side doors. "Mr Winddancer, shall we retire to my office and discuss my offer?"

Talon just stared at the Headmaster, unable to form a coherent thought. Was Dumbledore serious?

"Mr Winddancer?"

Apparently he was. Shrugging his shoulders, Talon figured what the heck and inclined his head slightly, starting to make his way towards the indicated door.

"Well then students; let's be off to your classes, I believe the bell rang quite some time ago. Those who has Defence will have the next period free-"

"There is no need for that, Headmaster," Talon cut in, not particularly caring that he had interrupted the Headmaster of Hogwarts, his possible future employer. "Who has Defence next?"

"Um, we do... sir," a Gryffindor said, getting to their feet.

"And you are in what year?" Talon asked, giving her an encouraging smile.

"Um, fifth year, sir."

"Good, then you will research the Patronus Charm and write a foot long essay about the spell. Why a Charm would be used for Defence, what it is used against, and what is required to cast it. All fifth years will do this, so I suggest you all take notes on what I just said," Talon said, making sure his voice carried across the Great Hall.

Turning back to Dumbledore, Talon smiled and said, "Well, sir, looks like I'm all yours for now."

"Splendid my boy, let us have some tea and a nice, long chat," Albus said merrily, leading the way towards his office.

oOo

_Well,_ Harry mused as he surveyed his new domain. _This was not what I expected to do today. Merlin, I'm suppose to teach Defence against the Dark Arts. How did this happen again?_

_Right, I was approached by three Unicorn stallions, offering me the chance to go back in time and undo a lot of the damage Voldemort caused._

_How could I say no to that? Sirius was dead. Dumbledore was dead. Hermione and I was on the run from __everyone__ and we didn't have a __clue__ how to find the remaining horcruxes or even how to destroy them. Ron certainly wasn't any help, the git._

_So when the stallions offered me a chance to go back, how could I refuse? Especially since they offered me help with not only finding the blasted things but also how to defeat them, dealing with the one in my head as a sign of good faith._

_How was I supposed to say no after that? I couldn't. And yes, I knew that I wouldn't be able to go home again, that I would be stuck, so to speak, in the past. But I had planned on going on a much needed vacation. Travel the world, see the sights, experience __life__ for the fist time in my life. So what if I had to stay hidden for the next six or seven years or so? I would finally be __free__. So how in the world did I allow Albus Dumbledore to guilt me into teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts?_

_That's not being free! That's me facing not only myself but Ron and Hermione too! And the twins! And, gah, Draco bloody Malfoy. Not to mention bloody __Snape__. Merlin, give me strength. Or better yet, just shoot me now. How in the world will I survive __this__?_

oOo

On a hill deep inside the Forbidden Forest stood three Unicorn stallions, their eyes locked on the stars shining brightly in the dark sky.

From behind came the sound of hoof beats and before long the three were accompanied by five Centaurs.

"So, the child of Prophecy has succeeded in his task."

_Yes, the Dark Lord is no more,_ the leader of the three Unicorns stated, never taking his eyes off the sky as time was re-written around them.

... "What of the Light Lord?"

_The Child of Prophecy no longer trusts him. It will not be long before the Child gains new allies and together they will deal with the one proclaiming himself to be the Lord of Light, thusly taking his rightful place._

"Good. We look forward to that day. Maybe then Mars will no longer shine so brightly at night," the oldest of the Centaurs said, watching the sky as time continued to re-arrange itself.

_It won't, my friend, it won't._


	6. The Dangers With Time Travel

_**Warning: **_This is the first story I've ever written where none of the good guys receives a happy ending. (There is no torture or gore, just no happy ending. Oh, and a few character deaths.)

* * *

><p><em>The Dangers With Time Travel<em>

Walking around the diagram painted on the floor, Harry James Potter made sure that every line, every squiggle, every rune to the last detail was copied down correctly.

What he was about to do was not only extremely dangerous but illegal as hell. Harry shuddered to think what the magical world would do to him if they ever found out about his plans, but as the saying goes, beggars can't be picky. And after everything that had happened, Harry was desperate, desperate enough to attempt this dangerous ritual in hopes he'd be able to changes things for the better.

Because the life of the Boy Who Lived sucked.

Majorly.

Sirius was dead, thanks to Voldemort's trickery and Harry's stupidity.

Remus was still alive but absent, Harry hadn't seen or heard from him since that fateful battle when Sirius was killed. The werewolf probably blamed Harry for what had happened but was too honourable, or possible too cowardly, to say it to Harry's face.

Voldemort was back at full strength, spreading terror and fear among the magical population.

The new Minister of Magic, what's-his-name, was hounding Harry to become the Ministry's lapdog, not caring a whit about Harry's thoughts or his feelings, simply wanting a figurehead he could rally support around.

Professor Dumbledore refused to teach him, despite his earlier promise of training, contenting himself with showing Harry memories detailing the life on one Tom Riddle. Just how was that supposed to help Harry defeat the menace?

As if that wasn't enough to boggle anyone down, Draco bloody Malfoy was up to something but no one wanted to believe him. Not the teachers, although that was hardly shocking considering his past history of asking them for help. No what truly pissed Harry off was that his friends didn't believe him either, brushing his concerns off as inconsequential.

And that was why Harry had hatched this crazy plan in hopes of making changes that would ensure that he never again ended up in this hopeless situation.

Because Harry Potter, the darling of the magical world who everyone put their hopes to no longer had any hope himself. He had given up.

He had given up on his fellow man, the only one he still trusted to be there for him was Sirius Black.

Who was, most inconveniently, dead.

But Harry was going to change all that.

Tonight.

The moment the clock struck midnight.

Fortunately he only had to be patient for ten more minutes. Ten measly minutes before his life would be put back on track.

He hoped.

oOo

"Why are we doing this again, Hermione?" Ron hissed as his bushy haired friend dragged him through deserted corridors, glancing nervously over his shoulder. "It's the middle of the night. What if Filch catches us? Or worse, Snape?"

"The chance of us getting caught would be decidedly less if you would just. Stop. _Talking_," Hermione hissed, quickly reaching the end of her rope. "And I told you already, Harry is up to something; it is our duty to stop the prat before he lands himself in hot water, again. So would you kindly stop dragging your feet and hurry up?!"

"But there's someone here, Hermione. I can feel their eyes glaring holes in my back," Ron whined, casting another glance over his shoulder. Someone was following them, he was sure of it.

"Honestly, Ron, who would be spying on us? You said it yourself, it is the middle of the night; everyone should be in their beds now."

"Yeah? We aren't," Ron pointed out waspishly, "and neither is Harry."

Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance, consulting her tracking spell before heading down a new corridor. "_Harry_ is out of bed because he is plotting something stupid. _We_ are out of bed so we can stop whatever idiotic notion Harry has taking into his head this time. How likely do you think it is that someone _else_ is up and about at this time of the night, doing the exact same thing we are? Stop being so paranoid and come _on_."

Grumbling under his breath, Ron allowed Hermione to drag him to wherever Harry had holed up, thinking longingly of his bed where he could be curled up now, fast asleep if it wasn't for Hermione and her paranoia.

Yes, Harry had been a bit... absent of late, not that Ron had really noticed, he'd been too busy with Lavender to really take any notice of his best friend, but that was only natural considering his new relationship. Girlfriends did come before best mates, after all. Harry knew that and that was why he no longer pestered Ron for games of chess or wanted to talk about Quidditch at all hours. Harry was a great mate who understood. Now if only Hermione could be as understanding as Harry was.

Hermione for her part was fuming that Ron refused to take her seriously. Harry had proven over and over again that he could not be trusted. The Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, the whole mess at the Department of Mysteries, the list just went on and on.

No, Harry clearly needed a guiding hand and she was just the witch to extend that hand, with the help of Headmaster Dumbledore, of course. Now all she had to do was ram that knowledge deeply into Harry's stubborn head.

"Aha! Here he is, I knew that spell wouldn't let me down," Hermione cried in triumph, glaring angrily at the door when it refused to open.

"Hmph, we'll see about _that_," Hermione muttered angrily, using the override Professor Dumbledore had provided her in anticipation of a situation just like this one.

"Harry James Potter, what in the world do you think you are _doing_?!" Hermione shouted, rushing into the room, taking in the various runes and symbols, suddenly realising that she had only moments to stop the ritual Harry had enacted.

"Yeah, Scarhead, whatever are you up to?" a gleeful voice asked.

Whirling around, Hermione was dismayed to find Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway, his wand in hand, a most unpleasant look on his face.

"Bloody hell! See, I told you someone was spying on us. Bloody ferret!" Ron shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the blond, adding a sneer for good measure.

"We don't have time to deal with Malfoy now, we need to stop Harry first," Hermione stated with authority, moving forward with the intent to yank Harry out of the diagram, thus ending this foolishness.

"Are you daft?!" Draco exclaimed, lurching forward to stop the foolish Mudblood.

"We have to stop him!" Hermione cried, not really paying any attention to the other boy.

"Of course we do, but if we aren't careful the magical backlash could kill us," Draco hissed, grabbing hold of the girl's arm to make sure that she couldn't step into the diagram.

"Let go of her, Malfoy!" Ron shouted, pointing his wand squarely at the Slytherin.

"Don't be a fool," Draco hissed, glaring daggers at the redhead. "Any additional magic at this point could spell ruin for us all."

"As if I'd believe you, you... _ferret_, now let Hermione go!"

"Potter, stop the bloody ritual, you have no hope of finishing it correctly now you fool," Draco shouted, holding on to the struggling Hermione while keeping a weary on Ron. They needed to stop this now but he didn't trust the Gryffindorks to do it correctly.

oOo

Harry was not happy to have his private sanctum invaded, especially not after he had already begun the ritual. The idiots that posed as his friends were going to get him killed if they didn't step back and shut the hell up.

But with Malfoy added to the mix, not to mention Hermione's usual I-always-know-best attitude, Harry held no hope of being able to finish this in peace. But he'd be damned if he stopped now. He was so close, so very, very close.

Keeping up his chanting, Harry watched in disbelief as the three teens struggled and fought, ending up tripping each other, falling into the pentagram just as Harry uttered the last syllables of the spell, pushing him out of the pentagram as they landed in a heap on the floor.

There was a bright flash of light and then there was only darkness.

oOo

"We need to know what happened and we need to know _now_," a voice shouted angrily causing lances of pain to shoot through his skull.

"Now, now, Severus, I understand that you are worried about young Mr Malfoy but we will not receive out answers any faster if we endanger Mr Potter's health, now will we?" an amused voice chided gently, causing his teeth to ace for some reason.

"Albus, you can't protect the boy forever. Three students are gone, missing from the castle, and the only one who can tell us what happened is your precious golden boy," the first voice sneered. Yet, even as it was filled with scorn, he rather liked that voice, it was deep and rather soothing, and suddenly he was overcome with curiosity to see what the body the voice belonged to looked like.

Forcing his eyes open, he groaned as bright light hit his retinas. Slamming them shut, he buried his face in the pillow, mentally apologising to his poor, abused eyes.

"Ah, I see that you are awake, my boy. How do you feel?" the soothing voice that rose his hackles asked and he wished it would just. _Go. Away_. Didn't they realise he was in pain here?

"You can open your eyes now, Potter," the first voice stated, sounding snarky now rather than scornful.

Suddenly filled with a wish to see Mr Snarky, he carefully opened one eye. Feeling relieved to find the room suitable dimmed, he rolled over and opened both his eyes, taking a curious look around.

"Now then, Harry, please tell us what happened," the pretending-to-be-soothing voice said and he briefly turned to look at the old man, wrinkling his nose at the sight of the colourful robes. Honestly, didn't the man have any taste?

"Um, what happened where? And when?" he asked, turning his attention to the other man in the room. This had to be Mr Snarky, and, mmm, didn't he look yummy?

"Don't pretend to be stupid, Potter, we already know of your lack of intelligence," Snarky snapped.

"Well, hello Handsome," he purred, throwing back the covers and carefully getting out of the bed, grinning triumphantly when there seemed to be nothing wrong with his limbs.

"Mr Potter!" Snarky cried indignantly, his black eyes practically shooting daggers at the teen.

"Please, no need to be so formal for my sake," he purred, moving closer to the taller man, taking in his fine shape with appreciative eyes, feeling extremely glad that the pounding headache he had woken with was swiftly diminishing. Must be the delicious company he was keeping.

"Now, now, Harry, there is no need to be teasing poor Severus. Please tell us what happened to cause you to be found unconscious with an extreme case of magical fatigue," the old man said, attempting to assert his authority.

He merely snorted and kept on staring at Snarky. No, his name was Severus, wasn't it? "Severus... I like that name, it suits you," he said with a soft smile, dropping the teasing for now as Snaky didn't seem to respond well to it.

"What happened, Mr Potter?" Severus asked, eyeing the teen worriedly, not liking the look in the boy's oh so green eyes. The look was most... disturbing.

"Beats me," he responded cheerfully with a careless shrug of his shoulders. "In fact, I don't think I recall anything of what happened before waking up here. Where am I anyway?" he asked, turning around in a slow circle as he took a better look at the room they were standing in. It seemed to be a medical room but he didn't recognise it.

"You don't remember being involved in a dangerous magical ritual?" Severus asked in disbelief, wondering if the brat would try and weasel out of trouble by claiming amnesia.

"A ritual you say? That's strange. I'm a skilled wizard, I won't deny that, but my strengths do not lie with magical rituals. Are you positive I am the one who performed it?" he asked, turning back to Severus for answers, continuing to ignore the old man who appeared to be slowly turning a lovely shade of purple.

Severus paused, but found himself telling the truth. "We are not absolutely certain what happened, but three students are missing, you were found unconscious, and this book was lying next to you."

He accepted the book and searched out the bookmarked page. "Hmm... a time displacement ritual. A very daring attempt on whoever's part; daring or desperate. Which one would you pick, Severus?" he asked with a purr, enjoying the way the dark man's name rolled off his tongue.

Severus hesitated before reluctantly replying, "Desperate."

"I thought so," he hummed with a nod, turning back to the book. "Well, my guess is that the ritual was interrupted and the three missing students were sent back in time. Hopefully, they ended up back in their younger bodies since the few notes scribbled in the margin seems to indicate that was the caster's wish."

"And if they didn't?" Dumbledore asked with some dread.

"Then they could be anywhere in history. The easiest way to check is to search through the historical archive for their names," he replied with a shrug, closing the book with a snap. "So, care to tell me where I am?"

"You are at Hogwarts, School of Whitchcraft-"

"And Wizardry," he finished Severus' reply before crying out in pain, clutching his head as he dropped to his knees.

"Potter!" Severus cried out in alarm, grabbing hold of the brat and supporting his descent towards the floor.

"Urgh, bloody hell, well I hope the little beast will have a grand time dealing with the three menaces that used to be my friends."

"Harry?" Severus asked with some dread, somehow knowing that the boy he was holding was not the Golden Boy of Gryffindor.

"Nope, sorry to disappoint you, old chap, but my name is Salazar, Salazar Slytherin. A pleasure to meet you, sir. Did I happen to mention that your voice sounds like pure sin?" Salazar purred, licking his lips in anticipation. It had been a long time since he'd met someone worthy of his attention.

"Bloody hell!" Severus exclaimed, letting go of the teen and leaping to his feet, backing away as far as he could while he had the chance. Harry Potter was now Salazar Slytherin? One of the founders of Hogwarts? And the brat was _hitting_ on him?

"Oh dear," Albus murmured in shock, finding it difficult to believe that Harry's soul had somehow been replaced with the soul of Salazar Slytherin. Who was repudiated to being _the_ Dark Lord of his time.

"The Dark Lord!" Albus exclaimed with a happy grin. "Sir Salazar, I am sorry to inform you that we are having a bit of a problem with one of your descendants. Do you think you could help us with him before you return to your own time?"

"Albus!" Severus hissed, glaring angrily at his employer, could the man be anymore insensitive? They were talking about the man's great grandson. You did not ask a displaced time traveller to take out the only living relative he has left.

"I will need more information before granting you my aid. I am sure that Severus can fill me on what mischief my relative has been up to. Killing off ones heir is rather unpleasant business, it simply isn't done on a whim, you understand," Salazar said, his entire focus on Severus much to Dumbledore's chagrin.

"Of course, I do understand, Mr Slytherin. Severus, why don't you take our guest down to the kitchen? I am certain he must be famished by now. I am positive you can give Mr Slytherin all the information he needs. After all," Albus added with a chuckle, "you are the current Head of his House."

Severus levelled his most potent Death Glare at the Headmaster who had the audacity to twinkle his eyes merrily before leaving the infirmary.

Gritting his teeth, promising a most gruesome revenge, Severus plastered on a courteous smile and said, "Shall we?"

"Oh we shall, Severus, we shall," Salazar purred over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the hospital room, curious to see how the castle had held up over the years. That reminded him, "Tell me, Severus, what year am I in? And why would this Potter be so desperate that he attempted such a dangerous ritual? For that matter, why didn't the Ritual master stop him before he could complete the spell?"

Sighing, Severus resigned himself to a long, difficult day. Hopefully, they would be able to send the founder back soon, he wasn't sure how much more of this... blatant flirting he could deal with.

"By the way, Severus, the ritual, once enacted, cannot be undone."

A horrified look came over the Potions master's face.

"Yes, handsome, I am here to stay," Salazar said with a wicked laugh.

"Merlin help me, just kill me now," Severus moaned as he realised that he was doomed, just... doomed.

oOo

Draco Malfoy shot up in his bed screaming in anger.

"Drakie poo, are you alright? Did you have a bad dream?" Narcissa asked appearing by her son's bed, rushing forward to take her distraught child into her arms, shushing him gently.

Draco looked at the woman hugging him, wondering just when his mother had lost her mind. Drakie poo? What the hell kind of nick name was _that_?!

"Draco? Are you alright, son?"

Glancing over his mother's shoulder Draco couldn't help but sag in relief. His father was home and safe.

Wait a minute, his father was home?!

"When did you get out of Azkaban, Father, and why didn't you tell me?" Draco asked, feeling hurt that his parents would keep something like that from him.

"Azkaban? Oh my poor baby, what a horrible nightmare you must have had. But everything is fine now, see? Your father is here and he is not going anywhere," Narcissa said soothingly, pressing a loving kiss to her baby's temple.

Draco twitched, it had been years since his parents had been so openly demonstrative of their affection. It had begun to taper off when he turned seven and had ended when he was around ten when he was considered a big boy who no longer needed hugs and kisses from his parents.

"Wait a minute," Draco whispered, suddenly remembering the ritual Potter had been performing. He had never managed to find out just what Scarhead had been trying to do. The Weasel and his Mudblood had insisted on getting in the way.

"What year is it?" Draco asked urgently, a pit of dread forming in his stomach.

"It is 1986, Drakie poo," Narcissa replied, lovingly stroking his hair.

Draco felt his eye twitch at the hated nickname, it sounded even worse when his mother said it than when Pansy did. _Mother must have told her, _Draco suddenly realised_. Mother must have told her and Pansy picked it up, thinking it would 'endear' me to her or something. Well, I'm not going to put up with it this time, _Draco vowed fiercely.

"Wait a minute, did you say 1986?" Draco asked incredulous once his brain had registered just what his mother had said.

"Yes, are you worried about your birthday? There is no need for you to be, your sixth birthday is next week and your mother and I have a wonderful surprise planned for you," Lucius said, giving his wife a worried look.

"Bloody Hell!" Draco whispered as the horror of his situation sank in. He was six years old.

"Mind your language, Draco," Lucius said sternly, not about to allow his heir to use such crude language.

Draco could only stare at his father in horror. He was. _Six_. _Years. Old_. He would have to live his life all over again. It would be ages and ages before he gained any freedom from his parents again.

This meant... that he would have to go back and redo all the years at Hogwarts. "Damn you, Potter! I curse you to the deepest pit in hell, do you hear me? To the deepest pit in hell!" Draco shouted at the ceiling, whishing he had the blasted boy within reach just so he could wring the sod's neck. How dare Potter do this to him? How dare Potter curse him like this?

"Draco, I think you need to lie down for a bit. Lucius, please call the Healers. And see if Severus are available, I fear our poor little angel is not feeling very well," Narcissa said, taking charge of the situation.

"No, Mother, you don't understand, Potter cursed me," Draco said earnestly, watching in dismay as his parents shared a look before Lucius swiftly conjured some parchment and ink, scribbling a quick note sending it off with a house-elf to summon the Healers.

"Don't you worry, baby, Mother will look after you, and your father will too," Narcissa soothed, tucking her baby in firmly, determined to find out what had happened to her boy and ensure that they paid for what they had done to her son.

"Kindly get your hands off me, Mother. I am not cursed, well, I am, but not in the way you think," Draco said in exasperation.

His parents shared another worried look.

"Potter was attempting some kind of ritual, I never got the chance to find out which one. Weasel and his Mudblood were hunting him down and I followed them to find out what the Scarhead was up to. The utter idiots interrupted the ritual somehow and I guess I was caught in the backlash," Draco said, trying his utmost to explain to his parents what had happened.

"Don't worry, Draco darling, your father will put everything right again," Narcissa said soothingly.

"No! You don't _understand._ I'm not six years old! I'm really sixteen! I've somehow travelled from the future," Draco said desperately.

"I'm getting the Healers," Lucius stated and Apparated away leaving a distraught Narcissa to try and calm an equally distraught Draco.

Draco groaned and banged his head against the pillow. He would get Potter back for this. One way or the other, he would make sure that Harry Potter paid for doing this to him. Revenge would be so sweet, and enemies of the Malfoys would shudder for years when they whispered of the fate that would befall the one who _dared_ to mess with the Malfoy heir.

oOo

Ronald Weasley opened his eyes and blinked in confusion when the world around him turned out to be blurry. Blinking rapidly did nothing to change the blurriness so Ron decided to go for help, only to find that his limbs didn't want to obey him.

Letting out a yell of alarm, Ron was dismayed to hear a loud wail instead of the words he'd meant to say. Trying again, another wail came out of his mouth.

Starting to get truly worried, Ron yelled as loudly as he could, sighing in relief as the door to his room opened, at last, someone had come to help him.

"My, my, someone is hungry tonight, aren't you baby? Yes you are, yes you are."

Ron could only stare in disbelief as his mother, at least he assumed it was his mother, the voice sounded about right and the red blur that he guessed was his mother's hair appeared to be the right shade of red too.

Doing his best to wave his arms, Ron tried to tell his mother what was wrong but she didn't seem to understand him.

"Now, now, Ronnie, there is no need to be impatient, I'm right here," Molly said soothingly, settling into the rocking chair, preparing to feed her latest bundle of joy.

Ron could only stare in horror as his mother bared one of her breasts. She didn't... She couldn't... Did she really expect him to...?

Ron shuddered in horror as he realised that, yes, his mother expected him to breastfeed.

"I'd rather die first!" Ron yelled, fighting to get away from his deranged mother, turning his head in disgust when nothing he did worked.

_I refuse to do anything so revolting, so __disgusting_, Ron thought rebelliously. He was sixteen years old, for Merlin's sake, not a bloody _baby_. His mother better start feeding him real food, on a _plate_, thank you very much, because he absolutely, positively _refused_ to get that close to his naked mother. Didn't the woman understand how bloody _obscene_ this was?

_I will never forgive Harry for this. That ritual... It must have been that blasted spell Harry was chanting. Somehow I ended up in the bloody past. As a baby. I will have to live through my entire life. I don't care what my parents or Dumbledore say, I will never, __ever__ be friends with Harry bloody Potter again,_ Ron fumed as he fought off his mother's attempt to breastfeed him yet again.

_No, I will never forgive you for this, Potter, never!_

oOo

"I don't know what to do, Arthur," Molly cried in distress. "Ron won't eat! I don't understand what happened. He was fine one day, a happy baby with a strapping appetite, just as his brothers, and then, suddenly, just over night, Ron refuses eat. He cries every time I place him at my breast, and nothing I do can make him change his mind. I simply don't know what to _do_," Molly wailed.

"There, there, Molly love, I'm sure it is simply a phase he is going through. I am sure that St Mungo's can help set him right again," Arthur said soothingly, rubbing comforting circles on his distraught wife's back.

It truly was puzzling, but he was sure that everything would work out just fine in the end. They might not have much money, but they did have plenty of love, a love strong enough to get them through anything life might chose to throw at them.

oOo

Hermione blinked in confusion as she found herself crying in a bathroom stall.

_Whait... What am I doing here? I haven't been crying in a bathroom since my first year. I never dared to seek refuge there again after the troll incident, so why am I crying in a toilet?_

Doing her best to dry her tears, Hermione jumped when she heard a strange sound. Wiping her face off a last time, Hermione opened the door to the bathroom stall she was apparently hiding in and peeked outside.

Right into a pair of yellow eyes and then the world turned dark.

Coming too, it took Hermione a while to figure out what had happened. They had interrupted Harry's spell/ritual/whatever and she had somehow been transported into the past.

_Somehow_, she had changed places with Moaning Myrtle and had been the one gazing into the eyes of the bloody Basilisk, meaning that she was now dead and a bloody _ghost_.

Hermione spent quite a while fuming over that fact, inventing painful things to do to one Harry Potter when she saw him again.

Then realisation hit.

She was in the _past_.

She could _change_ things.

Dashing out of the bathroom, Hermione set out to locate Professor Dumbledore, surely he could help her? If she exposed Tom Riddle, Hagrid wouldn't have to be expelled. If Riddle was stopped now, before he could start the war, why think of all the lives that could be saved.

Maybe she could be the one exalted as the saviour of the wizarding world instead of Harry. Not that she had anything against Harry being the Boy Who Lived, but there was so much that could be done with such fame, things that Harry simply refused to do.

If _she_ was the saviour of the wizarding world...

If _she_ had that power, why she could finally do something about the house-elves. And the unfair treatment of the Muggleborns. Not to mention that it was about time the wizarding world was dragged into the twenty-first century.

Before she could get lost in her dreams of what she could do to better the magical world - honestly, if Binns could teach History of Magic despite being a ghost, then she could act as Minister of Magic - Hermione spotted her favourite authority figure.

"Professor Dumbledore, Professor Dumbledore, you have to help me," Hermione cried, accidentally running through the professor, much to her consternation. Clearly, being a ghost wasn't as easy as it seemed.

"My dear child, are you quite all right?" Dumbledore asked, peering at the ghost with concerned eyes.

"I'm quite fine, thank you, Professor, apart from the fact that Tom Riddle killed me," Hermione sniffed, overcome with emotion as she realised that she'd been _killed_.

"Tom Riddle, you say? Are you quite certain it was him? I would hate to accuse an innocent student of murder, I'm sure you understand," Dumbledore said with a slight chuckle, reaching into his pocket for his lemon drops before remembering that he was talking to a ghost.

"Of course I'm sure who killed me!" Hermione snapped. "Tom Riddle is the heir of Salazar Slytherin. He is a Parselmouth and it is he who has been opening the Chamber of Secrets, letting Slytherin's Basilisk loose on the school.

"It just _killed_ me, Professor. You have to stop him before he tries to blame poor Hagrid. He never opened the Chamber, all he did was rise an Acromantulas inside the school. Not that I think that is a good idea, but that's Hagrid for you. He loves deadly critters, calls them 'misunderstood'," Hermione said, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"How do you know that Mr Riddle will blame Hagrid?" Dumbledore asked, curiously.

"I'm from the future, Professor. Somehow I ended up in the past. I'm not totally sure how it happened, but I think it has to do with a spell that Harry was casting. We were trying to stop him, but I guess we failed."

"From the future you say? Come with me, dear, I think we better take this conversation to the Headmaster's office," Dumbledore said, leading the way.

"Oh, of course," Hermione said, nodding her head in agreement. It wouldn't do to tip off Riddle before they could capture him, who knew what tricks that man had up his sleeve?

"Come in, Albus, I wasn't expecting you."

Hermione blinked, then realisation hit. Of course, Dumbledore wasn't Headmaster in this time. Well, it didn't really matter, he could still help her.

"I have come upon a most peculiar situation," Dumbledore replied, gesturing towards the ghost that was floating next to him.

"Oh my, you must be new, I don't think I recognise you," Dippet said, looking troubled.

"No, I just arrived here," Hermione said, launching into a somewhat jumbled explanation as to what had happened to send her here to the past.

"I think this is very dangerous information, Headmaster. We should let one of the Unspeakables handle this matter," Dumbledore said, giving the ghost a worried look. Yes, he wouldn't mind knowing what happened to him in the future, what achievements he had reached, and yet... Such knowledge was dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

"I believe that you are correct, Albus, let me call the Ministry of Magic," Dippet said, making his way over to the fireplace.

"But... What about Tom Riddle? Aren't you going to stop him?" Hermione asked, wringing her hands nervously.

"Of course we are, but we will leave that to the Ministry of Magic. I really do not have the power to deal with these matters," Dippet said with a kindly smile, feeling sorry for the ghost who clearly had been through a very traumatic ordeal.

"But..." Hermione protested feebly, but before she knew it she was within the bowls of the Department of Mysteries.

"Now then, you say you are from the future?" a cloaked figure asked. Hermione couldn't see his face, but he sounded warm and sympathetic, so she nodded her head, still wringing her hands nervously.

"How extraordinary. It isn't often we see time travellers. It is quite an honour to meet you, miss. Now then, for the records, could you please tell me your name, date of birth, and everything you can remember of what happened in the magical world during your time there?"

Swelling up with importance, Hermione launched into as detailed description of her adventures as she was able. The Unspeakable interrupted her frequently for clarifications, which was somewhat annoying, but Hermione did her best to answer his questions as thoroughly as she was capable. Finally, someone was appreciating her intellect and her superb memory.

"I'm impressed," the Unspeakable said once the ghost had come to a halt. "You have lived a most impressive life. Is there anything you'd like to add to your chronicle?"

"No, I don't think so," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I think I've mentioned everything of importance.

"Good," the Unspeakable said with a smirk, drawing his wand.

"What...?" Hermione managed to squeak before she was captured inside a small cube that was swiftly placed inside one of the Unspeakable's numerous pockets.

oOo

"Uncle, I come to you with important information. Information that can very well change the future of our world."

"So formal, nephew?" the current Lord Black asked, arching an eyebrow.

The Unspeakable didn't answer, merely handing over the transcript of the interview he had performed earlier that day.

The head of the Black family accepted the papers and began to read, a look on incredulity creeping over his features the further he got.

"I shan't insult your intellect by asking if this is the truth," Lord Black said once he had finished reading and had some time to think about this new information. "No matter how much I wish to doubt it.

"If this is indeed what the future holds for us...

"Where is the ghost now?"

"Here," the Unspeakable replied, fishing the capturing cube out of his pocket. "I considered exorcising her, but we might need her for further elucidations so I did not dare risk it just yet."

"Well reasoned, nephew, I always knew you were a bright lad," Lord Black said, bestowing a rare smile upon his relative.

Glancing through the transcript once more, the elderly wizard came to a decision. "I have heard whispers of this Lord Voldemort. My own son is quite taken with him, and I know the same is true for the Malfoy heir.

"I do not like taking the life of the heir of such a prestigious family as Slytherin, but this future simply cannot be allowed to come to pass."

Nodding to himself, Lord Black made his decision. "I shall gather Lord Malfoy and a few others and inform them of this. Tom Riddle cannot be allowed to bring ruin to our world.

"We shall also discuss Albus Dumbledore and the role he will play in forming the future. I never approved of the way the Wizengamot handled the matters concerning the Dumbledore family.

"The father shouldn't have been sent to Azkaban. He was well within his rights to defend his family honour. Then again, he was a fool subjecting his family to those filthy Muggles. Nothing good will ever come from mixing our world with theirs, mark my words, nephew, nothing good will ever come from exposing our world to the Muggles," Lord Black stated with a sneer.

"Still, it surprises me that Albus Dumbledore has embraced the Muggles and the Muggleborns to such a degree. I would have thought..."

Rising his hand to dismiss the younger man, he suddenly paused. "I do not mean to doubt you, but I am surprised you managed to get the girl to tell you all this. Wasn't she at all concerned about spilling such secrets?"

The Unspeakable chuckled. "She was a bit hesitant at first, but it was remarkable easy to get her to speak. A few reassuring words of my rank put her to ease immediately. All that was needed after that was a few flattering words concerning her intelligence and the chit couldn't speak fast enough.

"The little fool," the younger Black added under his breath with a sneer. "Then again, you can hardly expect better from a Mudblood, now can you?"

"Indeed," Lord Black agreed. "Well, I'm off to see Lord Malfoy. Together we should have little problems putting an end to this Lord Voldemort nonsense."

"Thank you, Uncle, may fortune favour your endeavours. Tojour Pure."

"Tojour Pure, nephew, Tojour Pure."

oOo

Blinking his eyes open, Harry swiftly stumbled backwards with a cry of alarm. There was a maniac with a bloody sword charging at him. A_ sword_. Clearly he hadn't ended up back with the Dursleys as he'd expected, and Harry mentally cursed the three bumbling idiots – two who used to be his best friends – for bungling this up for him.

So… If he wasn't at the Dursleys, then were in the world was he? Scanning his surroundings frantically while keeping a wary eye on the maniac with the sword, thankfully the idiot had stopped attacking him and was now just standing there, looking like an idiot, Harry could have cried when his eyes landed on the castle standing so majestically a few yards away. How he could have missed seeing it Harry didn't know, and right now he really didn't care. He was at Hogwarts and surely Dumbledore could help him sort out what had gone wrong.

"Salazar, are you all right? Do you need aid?"

Blinking, Harry turned towards the maniac who appeared to be speaking to him although he couldn't quite make out the words. Opening his mouth to tell the idiot off, Harry realized with a start that he couldn't breathe. Reaching instinctually for his throat, nearly taking his eye out as he hadn't realized that he was holding a sword too, Harry frantically gasped for breath, but no oxygen reached his starving lungs.

Looking at the maniac beseechingly, Harry prayed that he would know what to do to help him, since Harry sure had no idea what was wrong, but before he could find out if the maniac was willing to aid him or not, the ground was smacking him in the face and then the world turned black.

oOo

"I don't know what happened, Helga! How could this have happened? Salazar knows, he _knows,_ Helga, that I always combine that charge attack with a choking hex. How many times has he been griping at me about my predictability? How I should come up with new strategies once in a while? How it wasn't good for the students to always know what their teachers would do?

"So tell me, _tell me_, why in Merlin's name didn't he cancel the hex?" Godric Gryffindor cried, tears streaming down his face as he looked at the lifeless body of his friend and fellow founder.

"I don't know, Ric, I simply do not know. My scans have come up with nothing, but it is clear to me that something must have happened to him," Helga Hufflepuff said, doing his best to sooth the distraught man.

"He was looking at me, Helga, with such pleading in his eyes. And I just stood there and did nothing. But not even in my wildest ideas could I have guessed that he was being slowly killed by my own choking hex. Why didn't he cancel it, Helga? _Why_?"

"I don't know, Ric," Helga sighed sadly. "I don't know, and… I fear that we never will."

oOo

"Ah, Severus my boy, have you had any luck finding our wayward students?" Albus asked, all but giving his Potions master a pleading look.

Sighing heavily, Severus slowly, reluctantly shook his head no. "I'm sorry, Albus, but there is no mention of them that I can find. Potter obviously ended up in the Founders time, but there are no mention of a time traveller landing among them. In fact, there is no reliable source detailing what happened to Salazar Slytherin anywhere where I could find it," Severus reported, hating to see the light in the Headmaster's eyes dim yet again.

Which was understandable considering just how important Harry Potter was to the war. What would happen to them now that the prophecy child was gone? Could they still defeat the Dark Lord or had the war already been lost? Severus hated not knowing and yet there simply was nothing more he could do, other than taking a time turner and go back and attempt to stop the foolish child from doing the ritual in the first place.

So far Albus had refused that option, but Severus was reaching the end of his rope and if things didn't change he would steal a time turner and go back, with or without the Headmaster's approval.

"Ah, Lord Slytherin, thank you for joining us. Have you had any luck unravelling what went wrong with the ritual?" Albus asked, the twinkle in his returning as his eyes landed on the misplaced Founder.

Severus gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to hex the insufferable man who insisted on stalking him everywhere he went. Not even the prospect of learning forgotten potions from the man made his situation even remotely tolerable.

"Headmaster," Salazar said with a slight nod, moving his chair so that he was sitting as close to his yummy target as possible, ignoring with ease the dark glower sent his way by said target.

"As promised I have examined the diagram and analyzed the residual magic left in the room where the ritual took place. I have also conversed with Hogwarts herself and I am sorry to report that the Potter boy did not survive his arrival in the past long. Apparently the two of us swapped bodies during a duel with Godric Gryffindor.

"The man is boringly predictable when duelling with a sword, but there is no denying that he is, was, one of the most skilled duellers of our time. Only I was better," Salazar said matter-of-factly, having never bothered with false modesty. "Unless the boy knew his way around a sword I fear he stood no chance."

"I see," Albus said with a sad sigh, feeling his heart clench with grief and regret. Grief that such a bright, brilliant boy had been taken from them, and regret that he had failed Harry so much that the boy had felt that such a dangerous ritual was his only option to deal with his task.

"And the other missing students?" Albus asked with dread.

"They too were sent to the past, but no to our past I fear," Salazar said slowly, pulling thoughtfully on his lower lip.

"Not our past?" His audience echoed in disbelief.

"No. The ritual was interrupted, obviously, and while I was examining the residual magics still floating around the room, I found surprisingly strong traces of transdimensional energies.

"In other words, Mr Potter, the initiator of the ritual, was sent into the past, our past, as he planned, just further back than he had intended I would surmise, while the other three students, as far as I can tell, was sent into a side dimension.

"In truth, it is quite possible that all three of them ended up in three different side dimension," Salazar concluded with a small shrug of his shoulders. It was a nice mystery, but like he had stated when he first arrived to the present, this type of magic was not his forte, not to mention that he had little patience for rituals, preferring the subtle since that was Potions. No, this had been Rowena's area of expertise and Salazar knew that he would get no further with this investigation.

"Then there is no hope getting the children back?" Albus asked with a heavy sigh.

"I fear not, Headmaster," Salazar replied with a small bow.

"Oh dear. I fear that young Harry had a rather important role to fill in the war. What will happen to the prophecy now? An initiated prophecy are never unfulfilled, magic herself will not allow it," Albus stated with a worried frown.

Salazar rolled his eyes in annoyance. "You said it yourself, Headmaster. An initiated prophecy never goes unfulfilled. Since Mr Potter was successful sending himself to the past, would this not indicate that the prophecy was already fulfilled?"

"But that is impossible!" Albus cried in astonishment. "Tom Riddle has not been defeated yet. We need Harry to fight him, and yet the boy is no longer with us!"

Sneering disdainfully at the old man, Salazar rose to his feet, forcing Severus to do the same. "I am well aware how history has blackened my name, Albus Dumbledore, but at least _I_ would never force a _child_ to fight my battles for me. It does not speak well of you that you are so eager to push this duty onto a young boy's shoulders. I wonder… how will history depict you in a thousand years? As a grand benevolent Headmaster of Hogwarts? Or as a cruel despot that used your position to mould the children of our world into your private army? Why don't you ponder that while sucking on those wile things you seem to enjoy so much? Come Severus, the air in here is turning rank. Why Hogwarts hasn't already kicked the old man out on his rear end I will never know. Perhaps the castle and I will need to have another long chat. Do you wish to accompany me?" Salazar asked, dragging the Potions master with him as he exited the office, leaving a flabbergast Headmaster behind.

He supposed that he would have to deal with his idiot offspring eventually, but he would never fight in the name of Albus Dumbledore. The old man had helped create this mess and did not deserve any respect from him. And he would make sure to extract Severus from the old man's grasp, the poor boy did not deserve the fate Dumbledore was doing his best to foist upon him.

He would always regret what had happened to the children, none of them deserved whatever fate had befallen them, but he couldn't help but feel grateful to Harry Potter for giving him this second chance at life. Maybe, just maybe, he had finally found the happiness he had been searching for his entire life.

Glancing at his fuming companion, Salazar couldn't hold back the smug smile that stretched his lips. Severus Snape would be his. And once this Tom Riddle had been dealt with, he would reclaim Hogwarts, become her master and return the castle to the former glory she had once held.

Yes, life was most definitely looking good for the Founder of Slytherin House.


	7. Trapping The Wrong Wizard

This is a little story that was in my head when I woke up one morning. I hope you like it.

This takes place sometime in spring during fifth year

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><p><em>Trapping The Wrong Wizard<em>

"Aren't you going to open that, mate?" Ron asked once he'd satisfied the worst of his hunger.

"Nope," Harry replied cheerfully, not looking up from the book he was reading.

"Why not? Did you buy something sex related?" Ron asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Well, he tried wiggling his eyebrows, he didn't quite manage it, making him look more like an idiot truth to tell. Not that anyone was about to inform him of that.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes at how much of a _boy_ Ron was at times.

"I haven't bought anything and that is why I'm not touching that thing until one of the professors has examined it. Preferably Professor Snape," Harry replied, glancing towards the Head table to gauge how far into his breakfast said professor had progressed.

"Snape?! Why'd you want to get him involved?" Ron asked with a snort, rising to his feet.

"Because of all our professors, he's the one most skilled when it comes to the Dark Arts?" Harry suggested mildly. "Even Sirius thinks so, and don't touch that. We don't know what it is, where it came from, or what spells is on it."

Ron merely snorted and untied the ropes holding the lid in place.

"I said don't touch that!" Harry cried, leaping to his feet. "Professor Snape!" he added with a shout, drawing the attention of the entire great hall.

"What is the problem here?" McGonagall asked, marching towards the Gryffindor table, fire in her eyes. She never took it well when one of her lions caused a ruckus during breakfast.

"I'm serious, Ron, don't touch that. It's probably a trap," Harry shouted, moving far away from the table when it became apparent that the redhead wasn't going to listen.

Those with sense followed his lead while the others crowded around Ron, trying to peer into the box to see what the fuss was about.

"There's nothing dangerous here, Harry. It's just a kitten," Ron said with a laugh.

"A kitten? Don't touch it, Ronald!" Snape barked, raising his wand and casting a containment charm at the box. Unfortunately, he was a tad too late.

"What's the fuss? It's just a kitten. A cute one at that, instead of the monstrosity Hermione calls a cat," Ron said derisively, reaching into the box to pick the kitten up.

The moment his fingers touched the black fur there was a magical explosion, knocking everyone inside the great hall off their feet.

"Urgh, what happened?" Ron asked once his ears had stopped ringing.

"You proved that your sister isn't the only idiot in the Weasley family," Harry snapped angrily, staggering unsteadily to his feet.

"Hey, that's uncalled for," Hermione complained, adding a soft, "Ugh, my head."

"I hate to say this, but I agree with Mr Potter. Do not let this happen again," Snape said, getting back on his feet as well.

"I'll do my best, sir," Harry replied cheerfully. "...So, what was it?"

"Why do you insist on calling it an it, Harry? It's a kitten. Someone sent you a kitten, which was rather nice of them," Hermione said, finally feeling steady enough to try standing up.

Harry snorted in contempt. "Yeah, sure, it was a kitten. But since when does touching kittens cause magical explosions, oh wise one?" he asked sarcastically.

"Umm..." Hermione replied, looking rather dumb as she tried to come up with an answer.

"What made you realise that it wasn't a kitten?" Severus asked, examining the remains of the box.

"No air holes," Harry replied with a shrug. "As I told the two idiots, I had no idea who sent the box or what it contained. I was actually planning on asking you to examine it once you had finished your breakfast.

"But since those two can't butt out of my business, they took it upon themselves to open the box and pick whatever that was up.

"Any idea what that kitten thing was? Or what it did?" Harry asked, watching Snape with interest as he was now casting spells at a still groggy Ron.

"Interesting. It would seem that you narrowly managed to escape a forced marriage, Mr Potter," Severus said once he had finished examining the results of his examination spells.

"Marriage?!" came the cry from several throats.

"Huh, guess it pays off to be paranoid," Harry mused with an amused huff.

"Harry, this is no laughing matter! This is _serious_," Hermione cried, looking like she wasn't sure whether to burst into tears or hex Harry first.

"I know it is serious, Hermione. Someone tried to marry me against my will. Of course it is serious business," Harry huffed in irritation.

"Then why aren't you doing something?!" the witch cried in outrage.

"What do you want me to do? I don't know who sent that thing. I know even less how to break it. Can it be broken, Professor?" Harry asked, turning to Snape for an answer.

"I don't know. Only the one who sent the bracelet can break the spells on it. And depending on what spells was cast, it might be unbreakable," Severus replied with a thoughtful frown.

"You mean I'm married to some chick I don't even know and you can do nothing to break it?!" Ron cried in outrage.

"Yes."

"This is all your fault," Ron shouted, launching himself at Harry, intent on beating him to a pulp.

Harry snorted, ducked the wild swing and punched Ron in the nose, effectively taking the wind out of his sails.

"How can you be so sure the sender is a chick? It might be a bloke," Harry said laconically.

"And you don't care?" Ron cried in outrage from where he was sitting, clutching his bleeding nose.

"Of course I care. Someone tried to marry me against my will. I'm bloody outraged. I'm just not sure how to go about making my anger known. Professor Snape, what is the usual procedure for this sort of thing? Do I contact the legal department at the Ministry or do I challenge whoever to a duel?" Harry asked, once again turning to Snape for answers.

"Since you are still considered a minor the Department for Endangering Children will be contacted. They will probably contact the Aurors to have the guilty party brought in for questioning.

"If it turns out that the enchantments are permanent, provisions will be made to protect your interests and depending on the spells, penalties will be given the sender. Usually the matter will end up before the Wizengamot to ensure that everyone's rights are preserved as much as possible."

"Harry, why do you insist on asking Professor Snape? He hates you. You can't trust his advice," Hermione said, moving forward in an attempt to insert herself between Harry and Snape.

"Snape might dislike me, Hermione, but he has never lied to me or tried to mislead me. Besides, there are how many professors present? And how many of them are trying to figure things out? Not even your precious Professor Dumbledore is trying to do anything about this mess. That's quite telling actually.

"Do you know what I think, Hermione? I think that Dumbledore knows who sent that 'kitten'. I think that Dumbledore planned this in hopes of binding me to a spouse that could keep me under control. And now that that plan has backfired, spectacularly, he is trying to distance himself from this entire mess. He's probably too busy trying to figure out how to placate Mrs Weasley to have time to pretend that he is worried about all this," Harry said, sending the Headmaster a knowing smirk.

"Harry, how can you say that?!" Hermione gasped in outrage.

"Tell me, Professor, what do you make of this?" Harry asked, holding out a goblet towards the Potions master.

Frowning, Severus accepted the goblet, noting the subtle protection put around it. A protection that flared as someone tried to vanish it.

Taking a closer look, Severus already knew what it was but still he took a careful sniff, immediately holding the goblet far away from his person.

"That is a strong compulsion potion. How did you detect it?"

"Oh... a little something that Sirius gave me last Christmas. It is a handy little thing that tells me when something has been added to my food. But more than that, nine times out of ten it can also tell me _who_ it is that put something extra in my food and drink. And that little beauty was added by Albus Dumbledore.

"Which makes me think that this entire fiasco was his idea. Good luck talking yourself out of this mess, sir. Out of curiosity, who did you attempt to bind me to? And are the spells reversible?" Harry asked, looking Dumbledore squarely in the eye.

"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Harry," Albus replied, but it was rather telling that he could not meet Harry's gaze.

"Hmm... I guess we will know once Ron's spouse turns up. If it is one of your people, then we know it was your idea. If, on the other hand, it turns out to be a Death Eater, then I guess we can assume you are innocent of _this_ plot."

"Harry!" Hermione gasped in outrage, infuriated that Harry dared to speak to the Headmaster of Hogwarts like that.

Harry ignored her. "Who will call the legal people? For that matter, how do we call the legal people who needs to know?" he asked with a frown.

"There is no need for you to worry about that, my boy. I will make sure the proper people are contacted," Albus said, wanting to get out of the Great Hall as swiftly as possible.

"I still need to make a complaint that someone tried to forcefully bond with me," Harry said with a shrug. "Could you help me with that, Professor Snape?"

"With pleasure," Severus replied with some relish, gesturing for Potter to follow him to the dungeons.

"Severus!" Dumbledore called out in protest, but neither black haired male paid him any attention as they swept out of the great hall.

oOo

"Just how did this happen?" Molly Weasley howled at the top of her lungs.

"You raised a moron?" Harry quipped calmly, ignoring the way just about everyone present glared at him.

"What? She did," he complained.

"Harry..." Dumbledore chastened with a sigh.

"This is all your fault, you ungrateful little brat!" Mrs Weasley shouted, rounding on Harry.

"Just how is this _my_ fault?" Harry asked, ruthlessly shoving his anger aside.

"If you had just picked that kitten up like you were supposed to," Molly hissed, only to be silenced by half the people present.

"So... we know at least Mrs Weasley is in the know of this plot," Harry stated with forced calm. "Which makes it even more likely that this whole thing was dreamed up by Dumbledore since it is a well known fact that the Weasleys will do everything he tells them to," Harry stated bitterly.

"Tell me, which of your children am I bound to? I doubt it is Ginny since she would have stopped her brother from picking the kitten up.

"...Unless she didn't know?"

Molly shifted and looked away, refusing to meet Harry's eyes.

"Mr Weasley?" Harry asked calmly, not surprised when that redhead refused to look at him as well.

"Well... isn't this a nice little mess?" Harry huffed, torn between laughing and crying, refusing to do either.

It was clear that most of the adults in the Headmaster's office was in Dumbledore's pocket since none of them were actually doing anything to punish the old meddler.

Instead they were humming and stuttering and trying to come up with a 'nice' story to tell the masses. Nothing was said about the underhanded tactics Dumbledore and the Weasleys had used. Nothing was said about coming up with a punishment.

Sighing gustily Harry prepared to do what he never in a million years thought he'd ever need to do.

He pulled out the scroll Sirius had forced him to write and called for Dobby.

The house-elf appeared, looking happy. Until he noted what Harry was holding, then his ears drooped and his green eyes filled with tears.

Silently, Harry handed over the scroll.

With a thunderous clap Dobby popped away, unhappiness drooping from every pore.

"Harry, what did you do?" Albus asked, alarmed.

"Setting in motion a plan hatched by Sirius. I never thought I'd need it. I told Sirius to his face that I thought him crazy, but he insisted.

"It would seem I still have a lot to learn when it comes to people and how to handle them," Harry said with a sigh, folding his arms across his chest, refusing to say another word, no matter how much he was berated or shouted at.

In the end Dumbledore flooed the Headquarters, desperately trying to get hold of Sirius who seemed to be nowhere to be found.

For fifteen long minutes pandemonium reigned inside the Headmaster's office until there was a knock on the door.

Looking like he had bitten into something extremely nasty tasting, Dumbledore nonetheless rose to his feet and called, "Enter."

"Headmaster," Narcissa greeted coolly, sweeping into the room as if she owned it, closely followed by her husband.

"Narcissa, this is a surprise. Unfortunately, I am quite busy at the moment. Could we perhaps reschedule this meeting for a later date?" Albus asked, doing his best to not look as flustered as he felt. Nothing this day had gone as planned. The last thing he needed to add to this mess was the Malfoys.

"I thank you not to address me so familiar, Headmaster. We are neither friends nor kin. And don't worry, I am well aware of how busy you are. In fact, that is why I am here, to take one of your problems off your hands.

"Mr Potter, I gladly name you cousin and as such you will always have a home with me and mine," Narcissa said with a surprisingly warm smile.

"I thank thee cousin and will do my best not to shame our family," Harry said, rising to his feet, bowing deeply to Mrs Malfoy.

"Harry, what have you done?" Albus asked, growing deathly pale.

"The boy was smart enough to ask for sanctuary once he realised just how corrupt and unreliable you are, Albus Dumbledore. Since this is my cousin I gladly granted him his request. My husband is in agreement with me, the child will be perfectly safe with us.

"Come along, Harry, we have much catching up to do," Narcissa said with another warm smile, wrapping a possessive arm around the teen's shoulders, urging him out of the office before anyone could even think of stopping her.

"Severus, I am sure you understand why we no longer feel it safe to keep Draco at Hogwarts. I shudder to imagine what plot Dumbledore here will come up with next in his drive to regain control of his weapon."

"I fully understand, Lucius, although I will miss him sorely. He is a delight to teach, unlike most of the dunderheads I'm saddled with," Severus replied evenly.

"I will let him know you think so, Severus. Don't be a stranger," Lucius said, leaving the office without acknowledging anyone else inside.

"..."

"What just happened?" Mr Weasley asked dazedly.

"Harry Potter just left the Light and sought sanctuary with the Dark," Severus replied succinct. "Truthfully, I'm amazed he hasn't done it sooner."

"Why should he? We've taken good care of that boy, and this is how he repay us?!" Mrs Weasley howled in outrage.

"The boy considered you family, Weasley, why should he have to _repay_ that? Since when do you pay family? Besides, the boy saved your foolish daughter _and_ your husband, isn't that payback enough for you?" Severus asked with a disgusted sneer.

Molly could do nothing but splutter when faced with that harsh reality.

"But why would the boy seek sanctuary with the Malfoys? There is nothing but bad blood between them," Shacklebolt asked, having a gut feeling the war had been lost due to the actions taken in this office today.

"Yes, there is bad blood between them, as you put it, but it was honest bad blood," Severus replied tiredly.

"How can there be honest bad blood? Besides, doesn't he realise that they will kill him or at the very least turn him over to You Know Who first chance they get?" Mrs Weasley cried, getting her voice back now that they were no longer talking about her family's part in this mess.

"The Malfoys hated Potter for what he represented as the Boy Who Lived. Potter reacted on their reactions to him, but he never truly hated them.

"And don't you know what asking for sanctuary means? Harry Potter is now a ward of the Malfoy family. More, he is a cousin of Narcissa Black, and as such he is now considered family. The Dark Lord can request all he like, but family magic decree that the Malfoys protect him until such a time that he betrays the sanctuary agreements," Severus snapped, getting tired of this whole thing.

The Light was lost.

Worse, he had lost his most promising Potions student thanks to Albus and his inability to keep his beak out of matters where it did not belong.

At this rate Severus might as well swear his alliance to the Potter brat and to the brat alone.

"How come you know so much about Harry Potter, Severus? Since when are the two of you such good friends?" Albus asked suspiciously.

Severus chuckled. "Trust me, we aren't friends, Albus, far from it. But you did force me to teach the brat Occlumency. It didn't take us long to realise that for the lessons to work, there had to be some small measure of trust between us, so we... talked." _Although in truth, it was more shouted,_ Severus silently acknowledged, if only to himself.

"Did you put him up to this?" Albus asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Severus snorted derisively. "No, I had no idea he had something like this in his back pocket. It appears the mutt no longer fully trust you, Albus, I can't help but wonder why. Remember, he and Narcissa are cousins too. Apparently, the two of them have been talking.

"Since nothing more can be done about this mess, I have grading to do. Good luck explaining to everyone how you lost the Boy Who Lived," Severus said, getting out of the office while he was still able.

Moving swiftly, the Potions master made his way down to the dungeons. Packing his most valuable things didn't take long and before anyone could come looking for him, Severus sneaked out of the school and made his way to Malfoy Manor.

Might as well join Potter now before Albus found a way to blame him for his mess.

_Hmm... I wonder how long it will be before the Dark Lord tries to confront the Malfoys for protecting the boy, and what Potter will do to retaliate._

_Something tells me some higher power are holding their hand over the boy and they will not be happy when the Dark Lord next attack._

_I just hope I live long enough to see it._


	8. The Importance of Loopholes 2

**A/N: **A While back my mother said to me, 'What would happen if Harry and Ginny did get married? Would they live together in that little cottage, or...?'

Naturally, a bunny immediately hopped up and began to nibble, making itself quite at home, and thus this story was born. The beginning is identical to my other Loophole story, so if you don't want to re-read that part, jump down to the next headline called _Plotting Revenge_.

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><p><em>Unpleasant News<em>

"Harry, when are you going to propose to me?" Ginny asked, pressing close to the man she loved, running her fingers up and down his arm in what she thought was a seductive way.

"Hmm, did you say something?" Harry asked absentmindedly, taking a few steps to the side to get away from those wandering fingers that did nothing but annoy him.

Ginny could only stand there and stare, her mouth falling open. Had Harry truly done that to her? To _her_? Feeling indignation fill her, Ginny closed her jaw with a snap and folded her arms across her chess, fighting hard not to stamp her foot. According to her mother, stamping ones foot wasn't a habit a dignified Lady Potter should indulge in, but if a situation deserved a good foot stamping it was this one. "Harry, I _said_, when are you going to propose to me?" Ginny asked through gritted teeth, moving to block his way when it looked like the love of her life wasn't going to stop.

Looking up from his book, Harry cast a swift glance around. Ginny had been clever when choosing her spot for this confrontation. The Gryffindor common room was filled with students of all ages who all had stopped whatever they were doing and turned their attention to the upcoming altercation between the two upper years.

Thanks to Ginny's bragging, everyone knew who Harry Potter intended to marry, and yet not as much as a whisper had been heard about a wedding. Maybe Ginny's future nuptials wasn't as secured as the redhead liked to boast? What did this mean for their saviour? What did this mean for them and their chances to snag the Boy Who Lived to Conquer?

Sighing softly, Harry snapped his book shut, realising that it would be some time before he could get back to it, and turned to address the common room.

"Everyone here has seen me walk around dressed in rags that are too large, correct?" Harry asked, deciding to go for shock value. Besides, he no longer felt ashamed for the way he had dressed, having coming to terms with the abuse the Dursleys had heaped onto him while growing up.

"Some of you might have gotten the idea that I like things that are second hand. I can inform you that I don't. Don't get me wrong, if you can't afford new things, then hand-me-downs are nothing to be ashamed off. But that doesn't mean that you have to like it, and I never enjoyed wearing my cousin's overlarge castoffs.

"Unfortunately, at the time, there was nothing I could do about it, so I wore them and focused on other, more important things. Today, however, is an entirely different matter, and I can afford clothes of good quality that are new, that fit, and, even better, I am the master of my own destiny. Which means that I will never again settle for second best.

"This is _especially_ true when it comes to my future wife. To put it plain in words that _everyone_ can understand, I simply refuse to marry someone impure to be the mother of my future children."

Ginny's jaw dropped open once more. "I... you... _what_?" she finally managed to shriek, knowing full well that Harry had just grossly insulted her by accusing her of being a... a... Ginny shuddered, she couldn't even _think_ the word, and yet she couldn't believe that he had actually stood there and calmly insulted her like... _that_.

"I belong to one of the oldest families of our world," Harry explained patiently, giving Ginny a pitying look. "That means that I need to think not only about myself but my future descendants as well.

"Which means that I can't chose a woman of loose morals to be my wife. And before you open your mouth to protest in a shrilly voice, might I remind you of the numerous occasions you've sat in this very room making out with various males, not caring who saw what you were doing. I shudder to think what you've been doing with them away from prying eyes.

"And, yes, I am well aware that you've been seen emerging from a number of broom closest as well, so I _know_, as does most of the school, that you've been up to all sorts of naughty fun," Harry stated, giving the fuming Ginny a deliberate leer before turning deadly serious.

"Well, that fun comes with a price, and that price is that I will not chose you for my future wife," Harry said with finality, expecting the subject to be dropped.

"Harry!" Ginny cried mortified, her cheeks blushing with a mixture of shame and fury. "How can you stand there and say such horrible things?"

"It was easy, because you made it easy," Harry said with a shrug. "It is possible you're still pure as snow and that your virtue is still intact, but your reputation sure as hell is shot to pieces and I doubt any man of worth is willing to marry you now.

"Remember," Harry cut in when it looked like Ginny was about to protest, "you are judged by the way you act. Considering the things that have happened to me during my time at Hogwarts you should be well aware how little it takes for a rumour to get out of hand.

"Anyway, this is something your parents should have taught you before sending you off to school, it is a pity they didn't. And it is a double pity that your brothers don't care enough about you to put a word in your ear," Harry said with another shrug, resuming his trek for the dorm, his mind once again on the book he'd been studying.

For the briefest of moments a total silence befell the common room, but it didn't last very long as the present Gryffindors began to whisper among themselves. A few sided with Ginny, but most of them didn't, and not only because this meant that they would have a chance at snagging Harry Potter. It didn't take long before they were not-so-silently recalling the many times they'd witnessed the redhead making out with this boy or that.

But all that was overshadowed by the eruption of Mount Ronald, the belatedly worried older brother. "You bastard!"

"Why am I not surprised, Ron?" Harry asked tiredly, turning around to face his so-called best friend. "You have this nasty habit of blaming others when you yourself is at fault. But you can't possibly put the blame at _my_ feet this time. Why didn't you care when Ginny was making a spectacle of herself? Where were your concern _then_, eh, _mate_?"

"I'm going to kill you," Ron roared, charging towards his best friend who was refusing to do right by Ginny. How dare Harry turn Ginny down? How dare he imply that Ron's sister wasn't good enough for Harry Potter? What did it matter if Ginny had had other boyfriends? It wasn't as if she'd been cheating on him since they'd been broken up for ages and ages.

Harry snorted. "Voldemort couldn't kill me, Ron, what makes you think that you can? But if you should miraculously manage where older and better wizards than you have failed, it won't do you any good.

"If something should happen to me, proof will be sent out immediately, proof that you and your _dear_ sister has attempted to dose me with Amortentia. Your pathetic attempt failed, partly thanks to my Potter family ring that warned me each and every time my food and drink was tampered with, and partly because you can't be subtle if your life depended on it. I guess that explains why you were sorted into Gryffindor. You really should pay more attention to the twins, Ron, you could learn a lot from them, and not only how to become successful," Harry said with a sneer, sick and tired of Ron's attitude towards him and how he was forever running hot and cold. Honestly, when was Ron going to grow the hell up?

"By the way, who thought up that lovely little scheme? My money is on Hermione, am I right? Although her ideas usually aren't that clumsy and ham-handed, but use a potion that is ridiculously difficult to brew is something she would do," Harry mused, glancing over to where the girl in question was standing, wringing her hands in her distress.

"Why do you think that?" Neville asked, completely ignoring Ron who was still spluttering various threats in the background.

"Because she's done it before," Harry replied calmly, a somewhat wistful smile on his face.

"When?" Neville asked curiously.

"In our second year, when everyone thought I was the heir of Slytherin. We decided that the best way to find out the truth was to spy on the Slytherins, namely Draco, so we brewed a batch of Polyjuice and Ron and I went in as Crabbe and Goyle.

"We didn't learn anything useful, unfortunately, but we did try," Harry said with a small laugh, ignoring the hissing coming from Hermione for outing that little secret.

"Besides, who is always boasting about being the smartest witch in school? Who is the one that always knows the best? Hermione Granger. But for all her book smarts, she isn't very people smart," Harry went on, getting more than one nod in agreement from his audience.

"I mean, how many friends does she have here at Hogwarts? Me and Ron, possibly Ginny as well. She positively despises her dorm mates, constantly looking down on them for being interested in boys and fashion. Not that I can understand such interests, but each to their own, I always say," Harry said with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"All Hermione lives for is her books and her grades. But she isn't interested in sharing her knowledge, no, she takes far too much enjoyment from lording her superiority over others. No wonder the rest of the school keeps as far away from her as possible. Then again, after seeing the way she is always bossing me and Ron around... I mean, who'd want to be friends with that?

"So is it any wonders that Hermione would go for the complicated, not to mention the illegal, way when needing a solution to a thorny problem? Merlin forbid that she actually talk to me and _ask_ me why I don't want to date Ginny.

"Then again, considering the level of maturity and intellect Ron and Ginny shows I don't find it strange that they would go along with Hermione's plan. After all, she knows best, according to her," Harry said with a light sneer, "so _of course_ she knows how to handle matters of the heart."

"As it turns out, the Potters have rather strict rules when it comes to who is allowed to pick up the mantle as Head of the family.

"One of the rules is that the chosen bride is pure and without blemish. In other words, no Amortentia, and no making out with other boys," Harry said giving Ginny a meaningful eye.

"Should I have the appalling bad sense of marrying such a woman the Potter family magic will react and strip me of most of my inheritance. No lordship, no seat on the Wizengamot, and hardly no money.

"The only thing I will get is a small cottage situated in the south of Wales and ten thousand Galleons that is to last me my entire life. According to the family magics that is the foundation for me to build my own fortune, since I am not worthy to inherit the fortune my forefathers amassed.

"Apparently, one of said forefathers all but ruined the family and measure was put in place to ensure that it could never happen again. So tell me, Ginny, why in the world would I want to marry you when it would spell ruin for me and my children?" Harry asked, curious to hear what possible answer the redhead could come up with to counter his, valid, objections.

"But... You love me," Ginny cried, stamping her foot in anger.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "Where did you get that ridiculous idea from? Maybe if I did love you I wouldn't mind living as an outcast for the rest of my life, but since I don't love you I see no reason to cast my inheritance aside. Hell, I haven't spoken two words to you in... in... just how long has it been?" Harry mused to himself trying to recall just when he had last truly spoken to Ginny. It wasn't during the summer after Dumbledore's funeral. It wasn't during the hellish year he had been hunting down Voldemort's Horcruxes. It wasn't before or after the final battle; and it wasn't during the time he went back for his seventh year of schooling at Hogwarts. And since the winter break was all but upon them there had been plenty of opportunity for Ginny to approach him.

_I guess the last time the two of us truly talked to each other was during Dumbledore's funeral when we decided to break up. Or, well, I decided we should break up. I just thought she was mad at me for not taking her with me, but... Ah well, I guess it doesn't really matter. I haven't really missed her so I guess what we had wasn't the true love I thought it was. _

_Besides, Ginny hasn't exactly been celibate during the time we were apart, and she expects me to marry her? No way. I am never settling for second hands ever again_, Harry thought mulishly, being abruptly brought back to reality by the fist heading for his nose.

Harry had built up a surprisingly good awareness of his surroundings over the years, and was used to duck unexpected attacks. Vernon, and Dudley especially, had taught him that lesson well from an early age. Quidditch had continued to hone that skill during the many gruelling hours of practice his Quidditch captains had forced upon him.

So when a fist came towards his nose, Harry reacted without thinking by twisting his head slightly to the side, causing the fist to sail by without doing any harm. By taking a small sidestep, Harry avoided the body following the fist, positioning him in the perfect spot to deliver a swift rabbit punch to the ribs followed by a two handed punch to the kidneys when his assailant doubled over, and before the attack had really started it was over.

"Did you really think it would be that easy, Ron?" Harry asked scornfully. "I suppose it was too much to expect that you would manfully accept your part in this fiasco, since that would imply that you are a man and not a snivelling coward who blames everyone but yourself for your own screw-up's. Well this is one mess you can't whine, hex, or curse your way out of," Harry all but snarled.

Ron didn't answer him, he was too busy lying in a heap on the floor, moaning in pain.

Harry sneered, "You Weasleys claim that family means everything to you, but it looks like it's only lip service to me. Ginny has had four older brothers attending school with her, but I have yet to see a single one of you actually care for her or check up on her to see if there are any problems she needs help with. Maybe the events of our second year wouldn't have been so grim if a single one of you had bothered to do your duty as her older brothers. But no, she was an embarrassment to you then, wasn't she, Ron?

"And you certainly have never cared about her reputation before. Did you honestly think that I would marry her just because she is a Weasley? Because she is the sister of my supposed best friend? So it wouldn't matter what she did, because her future was secure? Well, I hate to burst your bubble, Ron, but life isn't that neat, and I won't step in and rescue her this time. You have all made your bed, and now you have to lie in it."

Ron tried to get a word in, he really did, but his back hurt, his ribs hurt, and he just couldn't get the needed air to do more than groan pitifully. Fortunately, for him, someone was more than willing to pick up his slack.

"Harold James Potter! How dare you!" Hermione shrieked, looking like she wanted to claw Harry's eyes out. "How dare you say such horrible things? How dare you attack someone who has done nothing but help and support you? And how _dare_ you accuse Ginny of being a scarlet woman? Have you no shame? No sense of honour?"

Harry snorted. "And here comes little miss I-know-best-so-you-better-do-as-I-say to the rescue. Done nothing but help and support me? Honestly, Hermione, if I were you I'd go see Pomfrey and ask her check you for spells, compulsions, and potions. Clearly someone has been messing with your mind."

"How dare you!" Hermione hissed but before she could get up to a good rant Harry interrupted her.

"May I remind you of our fourth year, Hermione? Just who was it that spent most of the year believing that I had put my name into the Goblet of Fire? Hmm? Or how about our 'lovely' Ronnikins behaviour last year?" Harry asked, allowing himself a wicked smirk when Hermione squirmed uncomfortably.

"Just who was it that ran home to mummy to be babied when our 'adventure' turned out to be not so adventurous after all? Who was it that ate all our supplies? Who was it that whined and moaned? Who was it that all but struck you when things didn't go his way?

"You know, I actually considered proposing to you, Hermione," Harry said musingly. "You had always been a great friend to me, albeit a bit bossy one now and then, but I figured I could put up with that, especially since you didn't outright judge me when something screwy occurred, but usually asked me first what had happened.

"But you lost all my respect when you slept with Ron. Especially _after_ he almost beat you to a bloody pulp because you dared to stand up for yourself. I hope you won't live to regret your decision. I truly do," Harry stated sombrely.

Hermione squirmed, not sure how to react to what Harry had said. Ron had done all those things, well, apart from hitting her. Ron had never done that. But Harry had been willing to propose to her? She hadn't known that, and now Hermione couldn't help but think of all the things she could have accomplished as the wife of Harry Potter.

But she didn't have long to ponder before Ginny cut into her musings, speaking with a sugary sweet voice. "Haven't you forgotten something, Harry? There is a signed marriage contract that states that we are to be married within a year after my graduation from Hogwarts."

Harry stared at her, then he sighed gustily. "Let me guess, you have a marriage contract that is written by your parents and Albus Dumbledore. Well, congratulation, Ginny, your parents and our former headmaster have just doomed the two of us to a loveless, moneyless life.

"And before anyone gets any bright ideas, should I die before the marriage you won't see a Knut of my fortune. And should I die after the marriage…" Harry laughed, but it was a bitter sound without any humour, "The moment we are married, the Potter estate is put in trust for my future heir, and it can't be any child coming from your womb since you are the reason I lost everything. I can only hope and pray that somewhere out there, is a wizard or witch that still carries Potter blood, enabling them to inherit or the Potter line dies with me.

"Well done, Ginny, just… well done."

"No! You're lying! You just want me to break the contract so that you can marry Hermione!" Ginny shouted, red-faced with fury.

Harry snorted. "Didn't I just tell you that I _don't_ want to marry Hermione anymore? That she too lost her chance to become my bride?" He couldn't help but shake his head, did the Weasleys purposely go out of their way to misunderstand what he was saying? He was used to Ron overreacting like this, but Ginny? Then again, she was seeing her dream go up in smoke so he supposed he could understand her unwillingness to face reality.

"As for my inheritance, do you want to come with me to see it? I haven't seen it myself yet, but I understand it is quite a lovely little cottage with four rooms and a kitchen. Unfortunately, it has no indoor plumbing, but I'm sure we can rig something up," Harry said with a smirk.

"The land attached to the cottage isn't big, but it should be able to support a cow or a couple of goats and some sheep. And a vegetable garden of course. We both have descent grades in Herbology so we should be able to make do. I'm sure your mother can give us a tip of two, or maybe Neville will be kind enough to help us set something up.

"At least we shouldn't have to worry too much about a roof over our head or getting food on our table. I hope you weren't expecting more out of life, because that is all I can provide you with. Hopefully, I can get a job as a professional Quidditch player…" Harry mused, trailing off as he considered what careers he'd be suitable for that wouldn't cost him a lot of time or money, since he no longer had an abundance of either.

The common room had been almost unnatural silent during Harry's outburst and now everyone waited to hear Ginny's thoughts on the situation. They didn't have to wait long.

Ginny had, for the second time that day, been reduced to incoherent spluttering while Harry raged about their 'fate', but now Ginny had regain her composure, confident in her belief that all this was nothing but a very poor attempt to get her to back out of the marriage agreement, as if she would ever do something like that.

No, Harry Potter was hers and he would stay hers. Ginny Weasley always got her man and no other harlot would get the chance to even attempt to sink their claws into her man. Still, it would not do for Harry to think it was okay for him to behave in this manner. Clearly, it was time for Mr Potter to learn who was holding the reigns in this marriage.

"You pathetic LIAR!" Ginny yelled, launching herself at Harry, nails and teeth extended, intent on doing as much damage as possible, completely forgetting that she was a witch in her fury.

Sighing heavily, Harry sidestepped the human cannonball, tripping her while he did it so Ginny ended up on the floor, stunned due to the heavy impact. It didn't take her long to get her bearing again, making a second launch at Harry. And a third. And a fourth.

By now Harry was heartily sick of the entire affair so he stunned Ginny on her next attack, petrifying her as an afterthought.

"Mr Potter, what do you think you are doing?" a stern voice asked, aghast.

"I'm demonstrating to my future wife what she has to look forward to once the marriage has taken affect," Harry replied blandly, although still seething with anger.

"Mr Potter! I do not appreciate you attacking your fellow Housemates, ten points from Gryffindor. Now release Ms Weasley this instance," McGonagall snapped, glaring darkly at the boy who had saved them all. Harry might be the saviour of the wizarding world but that did not excuse him from cursing a fellow student. Honestly, James would never have behaved in this manner.

Harry snorted. "Why should I be surprised that you side with the Weasleys, Professor? For your information, no matter how childish it sounds, they attacked me first.

"Not to mention that Ms Weasley just informed me that I am about to lose my entire inheritance thanks to the marriage contract drawn up by her parents and Dumbledore," Harry snapped, quickly reaching the end of his endurance. Merlin, but these people was giving him a headache.

"I find it insulting that none of those writing said contract had the decency to inform me of what they were doing. Not to mention that Albus Dumbledore is not, nor ever has been, my guardian, so by what right did he write this contract? By what right is he trying to dictate my future?" Harry asked, glaring hotly at McGonagall, knowing by her flinch that she had been aware of the contract yet hadn't bothered to inform him of it either.

"I see. Well, to clear the air let me inform you that I find Ginny Weasley to be boorish, brash and immature. She has _no_ restraint or self-control. Whenever things doesn't go her way she blames everyone else while stamping her foot, expecting everyone to just fall over themselves to do her bidding.

"If I am forced to marry her I would have to spend months chastising her, forcing her to grow up. Unlike her family, _I_ will not put up with selfish little brats who can't conduct themselves," Harry said, looking down at the still petrified girl with a dark look.

"And if that wasn't bad enough, Ginny called me a liar and that is something I. Simply. Will. Not. Put. Up. With. But the worst crime of all, at least in my eyes, is that she claims to love me. And yet she spend all her time with other males, making out with them and behaving in a way that is not becoming of a young, Pureblood witch-"

"Oh, Harry, if you were jealous of Ginny spending time with others, then why didn't you just ask her to be your girlfriend again?" Minerva asked softly, going a bit misty eyed as she realized that this whole mess was just a misunderstanding and that Harry was reacting due to unfulfilled emotions of love.

Harry stared at McGonagall, his mouth half-open in his shock. Then he doubled over with hilarity.

Wiping tears from his cheeks, Harry cheerfully informed his professor, "Please, I might have had warmer feelings for Ginny at one point in time, but war, hardships, not to mention Ginny's activities in this very room, have doused any warmer feelings I might have had for her.

"Ginny is nothing but a spoilt little child. Her appearance might be passable, but her inner being is ugly, making Ginny unappealing in my eyes.

"You might think that I am harsh, but, remember, you reap what you sow; I have seen and experienced so much suffering, pain, and even death, during my time here at Hogwarts that I have had to bury my emotions pretty deep just to get by.

"My summers with the Dursleys did nothing to help me cope with the many, _many_ life threatening events I got embroiled in. And my year on the run didn't exactly help much either," Harry said with a heavy sigh.

"Yes, it was war. And yes, many of you here suffered as well, I am not denying that or trying to diminish your experiences. All I am saying is that I need someone who can support me and help me deal with what I went through during the war. I need a mature partner who understand me and who will be there for me just as I am there for them. Someone who can help me feel again.

"I very much doubt that Ginny will be that person for me. Or that she even wants to be that person for me. To her I am the Boy Who Lived. The hero. Dumbledore's Golden Boy. I am not a person to her, I am a symbol, and I have no wish spending the rest of my life living up to her expectations."

"Mr Potter, I have _never_-"

"No, Professor, no more," Harry cut in firmly. "See to the golden princess of your master. Act like the good little doggy you are," Harry added spitefully. "While I will visit Gringotts to see if there is something I can do to salvage my inheritance.

"By the way, Professor, do not expect me to stay here. If Dumbledore was willing to screw with me, for the greater good, I shudder to think what his surviving lackeys will do to me to uphold the old man's image of the future."

With that salvo, Harry Potter left the common room, ignoring his spluttering professor's demands that he come back and apologies this instance.

oOo

Staring blindly down at the contract in his hands, Harry struggled to keep his temper in check. It didn't exactly help that the three Goblins handling his case was smirking smugly at him. Clearly they knew what this marriage contract meant for him, and clearly they were enjoying the hell out of his dilemma.

Harry mentally snorted. _I bet this is some twisted payback for us breaking into the bank so that we could grab Hufflepuff's cup,_ Harry thought resentfully. _Well, I'm not beaten yet!_

"Tell me, how is it that Albus Dumbledore could sign a contract for me when he isn't my guardian? For that matter he never was my guardian, magical or otherwise."

If possible the Goblins became even smugger. "It is simple, Mr Potter, Albus Dumbledore signed that contract using your blood. You really should have safe guarded yourself better. If you had bothered with the correct precautions, this could not have happened. But since you clearly didn't bother to protect yourself... that contract is valid and there is no way getting out of it.

"But do not worry, Potter, the Goblins here at Gringotts will take good care of your inheritance until such a time a new heir is found."

Harry merely smiled grimly as he rose to his feet. "I'm sure you will. But until the day of my wedding I'm still in charge of my fortune. I wouldn't make any... lofty plans just yet."

Not bothering being polite, Harry strode out of the office still fighting to keep his temper in check. He would show them all. He hadn't allowed Voldemort to best him, he wasn't about to lose all to Albus blood Dumbledore either. He might have lost this battle, but the war was still on.

Oh yeah, the war was still on.

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oOo

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_Plotting Revenge_

Fuming, with his magic crackling around him, Harry Apparated to his ancestral home. Looking neither right nor left, he made his way to the training room where he spent the next hour blowing stuff up as he struggled to get rid of his anger while shouting furiously all the things he wished he'd said to Dumbledore while the bastard was still alive.

Eventually, he ran out of steam and ended up in a heap on the floor, panting harshly while sweating rivers.

"Something vexes thee, Grandson."

Harry huffed and slowly looked up at his many times grandfather. "You can say that again, Grandfather."

The ghost smirked. "Something vexes thee, Grandson."

Harry reluctantly cracked a smile.

"Go, shower and change clothes and then you will tell me all about what troubles you over a nice cup of tea," the ghost ordered.

"Sure. Thanks Grandfather."

"It is my duty and my pleasure, Grandson. Now off with you."

oOo

"So, what caused you to come storming home in a rage, Harry?"

"Albus bloody Dumbledore, what else?" Harry replied ruefully, taking a fortifying sip of his tea.

"Dumbledore? I thought the old goat was dead," Ignotus said in surprise.

"Yeah, he is, but he still managed to fuck up my life. The greatest wizard of our time my foot. Dumbledore is nothing but an old bastard who get his jollies messing with peoples' lives. Do you know what he did?" Harry demanded, launching into an angry tirade before Ignotus could even start to shake his head no.

oOo

"What did the goblins have to say? They must have known the contract was illegal, they should have done something to stop it. Or at the very least notify you what was going on," Ignotus said with a frown.

Harry snorted. "I asked them that. I asked them by what right Dumbledore signed that thrice damned contract in my name. Do you know that they said?"

"No. And I have a feeling I'm not going to like it when you tell me," Ignotus said dryly.

"They said, and I quote, 'Albus Dumbledore signed that contract using your blood. You really should have safe guarded yourself better. If you had bothered with the correct precautions, this could not have happened. But since you clearly didn't bother to protect yourself... that contract is valid and there is no way getting out of it.

"But do not worry, Potter, the Goblins here at Gringotts will take good care of your inheritance until such a time a new heir is found'."

"So... the goblins chose to stand by Dumbledore in this matter. Makes me wonder what the old goat promised them. Not that it matters, we will make sure they rue the day they opted to go against us," Ignotus stated smugly.

"What can be done? The Potter legacy is lost, Grandfather. I will be forced to marry that bitch once she graduates in June and there is nothing I can do to stop it," Harry sighed dejectedly, already having given up hope.

"My poor Grandson. But don't worry, child, everything is not yet lost," Ignotus said soothingly.

"It isn't?" Harry asked, giving his dead relative a hopeful look.

"Child, I managed to outwit Death, don't you think I will manage to do the same to the likes of Albus Dumbledore?"

Harry sat up straight, feeling the smallest glimmer of hope take root in his heart. "What is your plan, Grandfather?"

"You will leave Hogwarts immediately, of course, there is little point of you remaining there, Merlin knows what they will try and dose you with next in their desperate attempts to mould your future," Ignotus said with a roll of his eyes.

"It is now December, meaning you have five months to create an heir to the Potter line. You will then marry that bitch, no hear me out," Ignotus ordered when Harry tried to protest. "You will then marry that bitch, making sure she is Lady Potter and Lady Potter only.

"You will then leave her with her legacy, the ten thousand Galleons and the cottage in Wales. You will have to send the house-elves to ensure that the cottage is in perfect condition, but it will then be up to her to upkeep the place, while you, my grandson, assume one of your other family names and go about your business," Ignotus stated smugly, watching with amusement as Harry's expression went from gobsmacked to astonished, to amused. It didn't take long before the boy was holding his ribs as he proceeded to laugh his remaining stress away.

"I can see how you outwitted Death, Grandfather. You truly are a devious old bastard, aren't you?"

"My parents were married, thank you very much," Ignotus sniffed. "And there is no need to point out my age, brat, I will forever be young and handsome. Unlike some."

Harry merely laughed and held his hands up in surrender. "So which family name should I assume? It would be amusing to go by Slytherin, but I don't need the hassle that would cause," Harry mused, filling his plate with sandwiches, his appetite returned now that he had found a loophole from the hell Dumbledore and Ginny had planned for him.

"No, I don't think that would be wise. There is always the name of Peverell, it has long been suspected that you were related to us, it wouldn't be that big a shock to have that rumour confirmed.

"Or you can take on the name Gryffindor. You earned the right when you drew the sword forth in your second year. Not to mention that the family ring has fully accepted you."

"Hmm, both good points," Harry mused thoughtfully.

"There is no hurry. You still have plenty of time deciding. That reminds me, Talla!"

"Master called Talla?"

"Yes, I want you to go to Hogwarts and gather all of Harry _Potter's_ belongings, no matter who has them," Ignotus ordered the house-elf who popped away with a deep bow.

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Harry chuckled.

"Wonder what?" Ignotus asked, pleased to see his grandson in good cheer again.

"Just how much of Hogwarts I own," Harry replied, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"At least a fourth, possibly half considering you wear both the Gryffindor _and_ the Slytherin family ring," Ignotus said, causing the teen to choke on his mouthful.

"Huh, I never really considered that," Harry mused, looking at his hands where the two rings sat so innocently. Then a devious smile spread across his face. "Does this mean that I can meddle with Hogwarts? Make changes to the curriculum and such, I mean?"

"Possible. It's quite probable. But I would advise you get your N.E.W.T.s out of the way first. Not to mention your marriage. Without N.E.W.T.s no one will take you seriously, and if you start making changes before the wedding the chit might try to put her nose where it does not belong," Ignotus cautioned.

Harry thought about that as he finished his tea. "As always, your advice is sound, Grandfather. Very well, I shall focus on my studied, and on making an heir to the Potter legacy.

"Um... how am I making that heir?" Harry asked befuddled.

"Don't tell me I need to give you the speech about birds and the bees, Grandson," Ignotus said, keeping his face straight with some difficulty.

"No! No, there is no need for that speech, Grandfather, I assure you," Harry yelped, looking like he was about to run out the room, screaming for mercy.

It was too much for Ignotus who started to whoop with laughter.

"Bastard," Harry stated fondly, unable to keep his mock pout in place.

oOo

Harry spent a relaxing Yule with his ghostly ancestor, spending most of the time eating good food and having pleasant conversations. They avoided such inflammatory subjects as Albus Dumbledore and the upcoming wedding, instead talking about Ignotus' life and making plans for the future.

All too soon it was time for Harry to hit the books again. Ignotus was a harsh taskmaster but he was always willing to lend a helping hand or a willing ear when Harry got stuck or simply needed to let off some steam.

When the first of May arrived the nursery was housing ten incubators, each holding the embryo of an infant. Hopefully, one of them would be deemed worthy of continuing the Potter line. Logically, only one child was needed, but both Harry and Ignotus lived by the rule better safe than sorry.

Harry found it hilarious, though, that Ignotus had a sample of Albus Dumbledore's blood and he had been tempted to use it for one of the children just to spite the old man. In the end he hadn't, not wanting to honour Dumbledore in any way, shape, or form, using a blood sample from Albus' great great grandfather instead who, according to Ignotus, had been a really swell guy.

Harry refused to ask how Ignotus knew that, or even why he had a blood sample. Just as he didn't ask where the other blood samples he used for the other children had come from. Sometimes ignorance truly was a blessing.

Then June arrived and it was time for the N.E.W.T.s. Harry had applied to take them at the ministry, but they insisted he take them at Hogwarts instead. The teen considered causing a stink, but in the end he didn't, figuring he needed to save his energies for the real battles.

But he wasn't happy. Neither was Ignotus, who sent an army of house-elves to Hogwarts to ensure that nothing happened to his grandson.

Harry found the whole thing hilarious, but secretly he couldn't help but being touched by the concern his grandfather showed him. When had Dumbledore, or even the Weasleys, showed him such care?

And then the N.E.W.T.s were over and Ginny planted herself firmly at his side, demanding to know when the marriage would take place.

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oOo

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_Revenge Is Sweet._

On June 20 everyone who was someone gathered at Hogwarts to witness the wedding between Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley.

The bride was simply stunning, wearing an exquisite white coloured, one-shoulder, chapel train ball-gown made of satin lace.

No one made any comments on the fact that the dress was a bit too low-cut to be truly tasteful. Or that the train was a tad too long. Or that the seamstress clearly had gone overboard when it came to the ruffle beading flowers covering the gown.

The guests were all too well-bred to make such comments on Harry Potter's wedding day.

The groom in contrast wore a simple white robe, emphasising his broad shoulders and slim waist, with the Potter crest on his left lapel and on both sleeves.

The only jewellery he wore was the Potter family ring, again a sharp contrast to Ginny who had decked herself in as many gemstones she could get away with - again missing by a mile the image she was aiming for.

The ceremony was lovely and Ginny was beaming happily through the entire thing. Harry didn't exactly look happy but he wasn't sullen or morose either. He was more... resigned, as if he had accepted his fate.

The Weasleys, in contrast, was over the moon, rubbing elbows with people who normally wouldn't give them the time of day. Harry watched it with hidden amusement, wondering how they would react once the truth was known. And Harry was going to ensure that the truth was known. He was actually looking forward to it with a glee that probably spoke ill of his character. But Harry no longer cared. Let them blacken his name, they had done it before, and would probably do it again. Harry was more or less immune to it, no longer caring what anyone thought of him but Ignotus. His many times grandfather was the only one who's opinion Harry truly cared about these days. And Ignotus had earned that respect by caring for Harry first.

Eventually the marriage ritual wound down to a halt and the officiator said in a ringing voice, "I present to you Lord and Lady Potter. May their future be a bright and happy one."

"To Lord and Lady Potter," the congregation called, holding up their goblets and drinking a toast to the happy couple.

Biting back a victorious smirk, Harry bowed deeply to the congregation and uttered the words of thanks and blessing.

"We're finally married, Harry!" Ginny cheered and pressed her lips against her husband's in victory.

Before she could deepen the kiss Harry stepped back and murmured, "Decorum, please, wife, we still have the reception to get through."

Ginny pouted but allowed herself to be led into the Great Hall where the wedding feast was waiting for them. She soon forgot about the aborted kiss as she happily chatted with the Minister of Magic about the changes the magical world needed to make to ensure there would never again be a new war.

Harry listened to their chatter with half an ear, mentally shaking his head at the unrealistic views Ginny held, engaging the Head Auror in a friendly debate about the chance of success when using Charms as Defence.

oOo

At long last the party finally wound down enough that Harry could make his escape with his new wife, making use of the Portkey Ignotus had helped him create.

"Harry, where are we?" Ginny asked, looking around in confusion. This wasn't Godric's Hollow.

"This is your new home, Ginny," Harry replied calmly, letting go of her hand as he made his way towards the door of the quaint little cottage that was now all that he had access to as Lord Potter.

"Harry? I don't understand. I thought we were going to live in Godric's Hollow? You were supposed to restore your parents' home... It was all specified in the contract," Ginny said in confusion.

"Harry? Harry, wait up!" Ginny called, doing her best to hurry after her husband, hampered as she was by her wedding dress.

"I know what the contract said," Harry replied calmly, looking over the living room with an appreciative eye.

The cottage might be small, but it was well built and quite cosy. Harry wouldn't have minded using it as a hideaway whenever he needed to recharge his batteries, so to speak.

But knowing what it represented and why, he hated the cottage with everything he was.

"Harry? If you knew what the contract said, then why are we here?" Ginny asked, starting to get frustrated with her husband.

"Did you think I was lying, Ginny? Did you think I was merely trying to dissuade you from the wedding when I told you what would happen when we got married? Well I wasn't.

"Thanks to you not living up to the Potter family standards this is all I have access to now. This cottage and the ten thousand galleons over there," Harry said, folding his arms forebodingly.

"What? No! No, it can't be. Dumbledore said... Dumbledore promised me... promised my family. No, you're lying, Harry, you have to be!" Ginny shouted, swiftly working herself into a fit of hysterics.

Harry snorted. "Dumbledore said; Dumbledore promised. And you believed him, without reserve. Maybe if he had actually been my guardian he would have had the right to make this match. Maybe if he had actually been my guardian he would have been warned by my family magic, making him aware of the fate he doomed us to.

"Or maybe he was warned and he simply didn't care. I don't know. Frankly, I no longer give a damn. Maybe his portrait will answer you if you ask him," Harry said with a careless shrug.

"No. No, this isn't true, this is all a lie. I'm supposed to be Lady Potter. I'm supposed to live the high life. I'm supposed to attend parties and wear only the best robes from now on," Ginny said, refusing to give up the dreams she had created from expectations and assumption.

"You _are_ Lady Potter, Ginny. The ring on your finger proves it," Harry said with an amused chuckle. "As for attending parties, nothing is stopping you. If you get invited you are certainly free to attend, I'm not about to stop you. As for dressing only in the finest robes, you are free to do that as well, if you can find a way to pay for them.

"I certainly can't do it. Not anymore. Use the money wisely, Ginevra. My advice is that you invest some of it in the twins business, they seem to do well these days. Or maybe they can help you work out a business opportunity of your own.

"Well, I've done my duty. I fulfilled the contract Dumbledore and your parents drew up. Have a good life, Ginny, I wish you the best of luck," Harry said, giving the living room a last look before heading for the door.

"What? Where are you going? We are married now," Ginny said dumbly.

"I know. But that doesn't mean that we have to live together," Harry replied with a careless shrug.

"What?! Of course it does!" Ginny screamed in outrage.

Harry sighed and opened the door. Hesitating slightly, he turned around and said, "I don't love you, Ginny. I'm starting to think I never did. I have no intention of sharing the rest of my life with you.

"You got your wish. You are Lady Potter. Congratulations. You now have to live with the consequences, just as I have to do."

"But... the contract," Ginny all but whimpered.

"Became worthless the moment we got married. The Potter legacy is now locked down until a worthy heir is found, just as I told you when you confronted me in the common room.

"There is no money, Ginny. No grand manor for you to lord over everyone. All there is, is this. Get used to it."

"But... what about children? Don't you want children, Harry?" Ginny asked desperately.

"I do. But not with you. But I am not so heartless to deny you children if you truly want them. In the kitchen are several pregnancy potions. There is enough bottles to give you four children. If you want more you are free to owl me and I shall provide more. But don't expect me to pay for the expenses of rising them."

"But... you need an heir," Ginny said dumbly.

"I do, but, as I also informed you, the new Potter heir cannot be born from your womb as you are the one who lost me my legacy," Harry said before sighing in disgust, realising that Ginny would never accept reality and he was only wasting his time arguing with her.

"Good bye, Ginny."

"No!" Ginny wailed, bursting into tears as she watched all her dreams walk away from her.

oOo

"Tell me, Grandson, how horrible was it?" Ignotus asked once Harry made his way into his ancestral home, tricking the boy into a startled laugh.

"About as horrible as we expected. Still, it could have been worse. And it was surprisingly satisfying walking away and leaving Ginny in her new home," Harry mused, removing his robe, handing it over to the waiting house-elf.

"So how does it feel to be Lord Peverell?"

"It feels... wonderful," Harry replied with a happy smile.

"Welcome home, Grandson, welcome home."

.

.

oOo

.

.

_Living Happily Ever After..._

_Or Not_

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE HERE AFTER WHAT YOU DID TO MY GINNY?!"

"Hello Mrs Weasley, thanks to your daughter I'm Harry James Peverell now," Harry said pleasantly to the fuming woman who was hell-bent on confronting him.

"YOU LEFT MY DAUGHTER!" Mrs Weasley howled in outrage.

"No, I didn't. I married your daughter, just as the contract you and Albus Dumbledore drew up stated. I gave you daughter exactly what she wanted. The one thing she was dreaming of. She became Lady Potter.

"Alas, within twenty-four hours of the wedding taking place, I lost the right to the name of Potter. I can't even wear the ring anymore. So you see, Mrs Weasley, I gave Ginny everything I had as Lord Potter - my name, my home, and my fortune.

"It is hardly _my_ fault the home and the fortune was smaller than what Ginny expected. But I did warn her. I did tell her what would happen if she married me.

"She didn't believe me and here we are," Harry said, throwing up his arms in an 'what can you do?' gesture.

"Yet you are living your life in luxury," Mrs Weasley accused him angrily.

"As Lord Peverell," Harry retorted calmly.

"You should do what is right by my Ginny!" Molly snarled, going so far as to poke Harry in the chest. "Have you any idea what she's been forced to do to get food on her table?"

"Yes, I am well aware that she is playing Quidditch for the Harpies. I understand she is doing quite well for herself. Becoming quite the star, in fact. I'm sure Ginny likes that," Harry replied with a smirk.

Mrs Weasley was not appeased with his answer. Or his smirk. "You should live with my Ginny. The two of you are _married_. It is a husband's duty to stand by his wife," she all but shouted.

"I gave Ginny everything I had as Lord Potter. I even gave her the opportunity to have children if she so wished," Harry replied, unconcerned by the whispers springing up around him as he and Mrs Weasley became the focus of the party.

"The contract-" Molly howled furiously.

"Became null and void the moment Ginny became Lady Potter. I _told_ her that her reputation was such that my family magic would not stand for her becoming Lady Potter.

"My family magic does not care what contract you and Albus Dumbledore drew up behind my back. My family magic does not care about the dreams you and Ginny dreamed up. My family magic only cares that an unsuitable woman was joined to the Potter line, and it reacted accordingly.

"And for the record, Mrs Weasley, Ginny's reputation issues? That's not my fault either," Harry told her calmly, but there were steel in his voice, a steel that warned her to tread carefully.

Mrs Weasley either didn't hear it or didn't care. "We drew up that contract in good faith. You are honour bound to uphold it, Lord Potter. I therefore _demand_ that you do what is right by my Ginny."

"You demand," Harry scoffed. "You can demand as much as you wish but I'm not going to do anything more for Ginny. You should thank yourself lucky that I haven't dragged you and your family before the Wizengamot for crimes against the Potter line," Harry snapped, finally starting to get angry. Angry with Molly. Angry with Arthur. Angry with Ginny. It was all their fault that he had lost the last ties to his father, and he would never forgive them that. Never.

Yes he was living a grand life as Lord Peverell, but that could never replace the life he could have had as Lord Potter. He could only pray that one of the children that was about to be born could carry on his father's legacy.

Molly sneered. "A likely story. We drew that contract up with Albus Dumbledore-"

"Who never was my guardian, magical or otherwise," Harry injected.

"And therefore you are honour bound to uphold that contract. Which you are not!" Molly hissed, looking like she wanted to poke him in the chest again, or worse.

Harry sighed and fished a small box out of a pocket. "I figured you would refuse to believe me unless you had proof so I brought this with me," Harry said, opening the box and showing the crowd the Potter ring resting inside.

Picking the ring up with a soft hiss, Harry tried to put it on only to be forced to drop it with a cry of pain. Instinctively he curled up around his injured hand, grunting in pain as his hand throbbed.

Forcing himself to straighten up, Harry held up his right hand, showing it off to the crowd. Who immediately hissed when they saw the burn on his middle finger.

"As I said, Mrs Weasley, my family magic has rejected me. It no longer sees me fit to wear my father's ring. You and your daughter has lost me my father's legacy.

"I have been calm and nice about the matter up 'til now, Mrs Wesley, but believe me, I can turn nasty. Really nasty," Harry promised her through gritted teeth.

"No, this is just some elaborate scheme to deny my Ginny what is rightly hers!" Mrs Weasley shouted.

"What is rightly hers? What is rightly _hers_? What about what is rightly mine?" Harry asked in a low, dangerous voice. "Thanks to _your_ daughter, I have _lost_ the Potter legacy.

"...You know what? You are never going to believe me, so why don't we take this matter before the Wizengamot?"

Molly perked up. "I didn't know the Wizengamot had the power to force you to uphold the contract we signed. ARTHUR, ARTHUR, oh, there you are, dear. Why didn't you tell me that the Wizengamot has the power to force Harry to do what is right by our daughter?" Molly asked excitedly.

Arthur frowned. "Because they don't," he replied warily.

"But Harry said..." Molly said with a confused frown.

"The Wizengamot cannot force me to uphold a contract that lost me my family magic. Since you refuse to believe my words I am more than willing to haul you, your husband, _and_ your precious daughter before the Wizengamot on accusations of line theft, the death of an ancient blood line, signing an illegal contract, rising a morally corrupt daughter... and who knows what else a skilled solicitor can come up with? Are you willing to take the chance? Or will you do the sensible thing and let things lie? After all, you got your wish, your daughter is Lady Potter," Harry said with a smirk, levitating the Potter ring and putting it back in its box.

"No!" Molly hissed, looking deathly pale.

"Let it drop, Molly," Arthur ordered quietly.

"No, Arthur, he can't do anything to us. No, he has to live up to the contract. The contract clearly says-"

"Let. It. Go," Arthur ordered more forcefully.

"Arthur," Molly complained.

"Molly, I'm putting my foot down. You tried your best but this time your scheme failed. Accept it and move on, or I will banish you to live the rest of your life with your daughter," Arthur commanded, glaring daggers at his wife.

"Arthur?" Molly whispered uncertainly.

"Harry has every right to accuse us of all those crimes. The Wizengamot won't care that Albus Dumbledore wrote that contract, or that he filled yours and Ginny's head with a lot of nonsense.

"The Wizengamot will only care about that our actions cost Harry his father's legacy. We can be stripped of our magic and thrown into Azkaban for that, Molly. Are you willing to risk that?"

"But Arthur," Molly whined, not yet ready to drop the fight.

"Are you willing to risk your magic and your freedom? To never be able to see Bill's children? Your grandchildren?"

"He can't do that," Molly scoffed, but she looked a little uncertain.

"Actually, he can. We at the Wizengamot has been somewhat puzzled that he hasn't done anything to penalise you for his loss," one of the Wizengamot members said from where he was watching.

"But... Harry is Lord Peverell. He hasn't lost anything," Molly complained with another whine.

"Lord Peverell may not have lost anything when it comes to power and wealth, but that is entirely beside the point, madam. Harry Peverell can never again address himself as Lord Potter, and that is a crime against Magic herself. I would tread very carefully from now on, Mrs Weasley. After all, Lord Peverell isn't the only one who can drag you before the Wizengamot. Considering your crimes against Magic and Lord Potter, anyone can demand justice for the Boy Who Lived.

"My apologies, Harry, I know how much you hate that title."

"It's okay, Arnold. Under the circumstances, it was a proper use of that title," Harry replied, waving the apology aside.

"Well, Mrs Weasley, will you finally agree to leave me the hell alone? Or shall I make Lord Amberhook a very happy man by finally allowing him to drag you before the Wizengamot as the criminal you are?" Harry asked challengingly, folding his arms defiantly as he stared down at the redhead who had caused him so much grief.

"I..." Molly whispered, glancing around the crowd almost desperately as she searched for one friendly face.

She found none.

"I will make sure she leaves you alone. Should she defy my wishes, then you may do with her as you wish, Lord Peverell. And you have my deepest condoles. I never wanted any of this to happen. I just wanted my daughter to be happy. I guess...

"I guess I allowed myself to be so swept up in my wife's and daughter's enthusiasm that I forgot to take your happiness into account," Arthur said, giving Harry a bow before dragging his protesting wife away.

"How long do you think it will be before Molly Weasley finds herself before the Wizengamot?" Harry mused with a chuckle.

"Her husband should be able to keep her in check for a week or so. The next big party is in a month... I could make sure both she and Lady Potter are invited. I know that you are planning on attending. So... a month?" Draco Malfoy drawled with a wicked grin.

Harry snorted in amusement. "Since the party is yours I'm positive that you can wrangle tickets for the Lady and her mother."

Draco merely arched a haughty eyebrow, tricking Harry into a laugh.

"Don't worry, Lord Peverell, I shall have my legal team look into what charges can be laid against the harridan," Lord Amberhook said eagerly, causing Harry's laugh to increase.

Above his head, Draco and Arnold shared a triumphant look. Both had come to actually like the young Lord who had been robbed so cruelly of his inheritance. Harry Peverell was nothing like Harry Potter. He was knowledgeable when it came to Pureblood etiquette, even though it was easy to see that the knowledge was new and not trained into him since childhood.

He did not wish to coddle the Muggleborns and had some intriguing ideas about how to make the induction into the magical world easier for them without holding the magical students back.

He even lobbied for the re-introduction of the Old Ways, arguing that the magical world was not the Muggle one and he saw no reason why the magical folk should be penalised for performing the practises of their forefathers. So what if it made the Muggleborns uncomfortable? They weren't Muggles either and the sooner they realised that the happier everyone would be.

"I believe I shall send my legal team to work with yours, Lord Amberhook. I am positive that between them they shall find every law and loophole that can be used in this unfortunate situation" Draco drawled, inspecting his nails.

"I'm looking forward to it, Lord Malfoy," Arnold replied with a wicked grin.

"Enough you two. Why the two of you haven't taken over the magical world yet I'll never know," Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco and Arnold shared a look before chorusing, "Nah, too much paperwork."

.

.

oOo

.

.

_Epilogue_

None of those who had been present at the Ministry party was surprised when Molly Weasley once again attacked her son-in-law, this time accusing him for not being there when Ginny had suffered a Quidditch accident. An accident that threatened to end her promising Quidditch career.

Mrs Weasley was most instant that Harry pay the hospital bills and demanded that he set up a generous trust fund for her daughter to live off should it prove that she couldn't fly anymore.

One week later the insufferable woman found herself before the Wizengamot where she was forced to defend her actions concerning the contract that had brought forth so much ruin.

Her husband was soon cleared of any wrongdoing since he hadn't actually taken any part in drawing up and signing the contract. That had been all Molly and Albus Dumbledore's doings.

It didn't help Arthur's reputation any, but at least there were no criminal charges to be laid at his feet. He was a meek, henpecked, husband, but so far there were no laws against that.

Draco's and Arnold's solicitors had had a field day combing through the law books, finding and arguing about obscure laws and whether they could be used in this case or not.

The combined legal team presented a very thorough case against Mrs Weasley and to their delight very few points were argued by the Wizengamot and even fewer was thrown out and denied.

When all was said and done, Molly Weasley was faced with five hundred and fifty life sentences in Azkaban.

White-faced, the woman could only splutter weakly in denial when faced with the Wizengamot's final verdict.

The Chief Warlock was about to finalise the verdict when Harry Peverell rose from his seat and said, "A moment, if you please."

The silence that filled the Wizengamot could have been cut with a dull knife.

"The floor recognise Lord Peverell," the Chief Warlock called after a moment's hesitation.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock. First, let me tell you that I am relieved to know that the Wizengamot has taken this issue so seriously. I am grateful, more grateful than I can ever say with words, that the pain and loss I have suffered has been acknowledged by this grand body.

"I also agree fully with the punishment this body has assigned Mrs Weasley, yet I feel it is not enough," Harry said, his voice fairly ringing in the silence.

"Not enough?" Arnold asked, sharing a questioning look with Draco who could only shrug his shoulders, he had no idea what Harry was up to.

"No. Putting Mrs Weasley in Azkaban for the rest of her life, while a horrible punishment, is not enough. Particularly when you consider that her family owes me two life debts."

"What punishment did you have in mind, Lord Peverell? And why haven't you spoken up before now?"

"Because I wanted Mrs Weasley to finally realise just how deep the well she dug herself is. I wanted her to realise that there is no help for her. Her precious Dumbledore is not her to help now, and although she might have connections of her own, her behaviour has been such that no one is willing to come to her aid.

"I know she will not like my suggested sentence, and I wanted her to know she only has these two punishments to chose from," Harry said with a wicked grin.

"You have this body's ear. What is your suggested punishment?" Lord Amberhook asked, intrigued.

"There is a potion. It mimics the Elixir of Life in that it brings you back to the peak of your life, and as long as you drink the elixir it will keep you in that peek condition, _but_ it will not keep you from ageing or dying.

"My suggested punishment for Mrs Weasley is that she is given this potion and then have her act as a incubator. There are thousands of squibs out there. Many who carry the genes for lost bloodlines. I've been pondering ways to bring those bloodlines back, but I lacked one crucial ingredient, a womb.

"Mrs Weasley seems to enjoy being pregnant, I am positive that she will find this punishment more tolerable then life in Azkaban.

"She cannot be allowed to keep the babies, of course, but I am positive that we can find excellent foster families for the babies. Or perhaps even relatives. Who knows what bloodlines we will unearth?" Harry said with an innocent look on his face, but he could not mask the hatred that burned in his green eyes.

"An intriguing proposition, Lord Peverell. There is only one problem..." the Chief Warlock said slowly.

"Only one?" Harry asked intrigued.

"The Potion you mentioned... it does not exist."

"Ah, but it does," Harry replied with a chuckle, "or I wouldn't have mentioned it."

The Wizengamot put their heads together. Soon everyone present with Potions knowledge or Healer skills were consulted.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "My apologies, perhaps I should have been more clear. The Potion in question does exist, but it was invented by my forefather, Ignotus Peverell. He has never shared his discovery with anyone, but he is willing to show me how to brew it if the Wizengamot agrees to implement my idea of punishment."

The Wizengamot once more put their heads together. Harry had a rather good idea what was going through their heads but he doubted that Ignotus would allow his potion to become public knowledge. It was a family secret and Harry had every intention of keeping it thus.

"The Wizengamot has no objections to this punishment. But we do have a few additional conditions. If Mrs Weasley should opt for this penalty, she will be placed in house arrest, and not at the Burrow.

"She will be allowed visitors once a month, the same as an Azkaban prisoner. She will be monitored by a house-elf and appointed a Healer to ensure that she remains healthy during her pregnancies.

"Mrs Weasley, the choice is yours. Which option do you choose?" the Chief Warlock asked, looking down at Mrs Weasley who looked like she was about to faint.

"I... I..." Molly stuttered, searching desperately for a friendly face.

She found none, not even among her own family.

"Yes, Mrs Weasley?"

"I chose the babies," Molly whispered miserably.

"So be it. Note that Mrs Weasley opted to accept Lord Peverell's suggested punishment. Mrs Weasley will be kept in a holding cell until a suitable house has been selected for her. This ends the Wizengamot case Lord Peverell against the Weasleys," the Chief Warlock intoned, slamming down his gavel with finality.

Aurors immediately stepped forward to lead the weeping woman out of the courtroom.

"Harry! You all but gave me a heart attack when you interrupted like that. You prat," Draco scolded good-naturedly once he managed to make his way to Harry's side.

Harry merely laughed at the blond's disgruntled look.

"Brilliant punishment though," Draco added with a smirk.

"Yes, my grandfather thought so too," Harry replied with a smirk of his own.

"Ugh, this is turning into a madhouse. Come back to the manor for a celebratory whiskey?" Draco asked.

"Sure, why not?" Harry agreed and with a laugh the two men fought their way out of the courtroom, ignoring the many reporters shouting questions at them.

oOo

Thanks to Mrs Weasley's punishment several lost bloodlines were indeed reintroduced into the magical world. It was also discovered that just about every bloodline in existence had had a squib born into at one point or other. Even the Malfoy family was given a new member much to Draco's surprise.

Ginny's injury proved to be serious enough that she was unable to continue her Quidditch career. Incapable of facing a life in poverty, Ginny went to Harry and begged for his help on her knees. Taking pity on the redhead, Harry offered her the same offer her mother had been given, but unlike Molly, Ginny would receive a stipulate of ten thousand galleons for each baby she gave birth to.

Reluctantly Ginny accepted, unable to see any other way to legally get money that would not ruin her reputation completely.

It wasn't long before the wizard world was made aware of Ginny's deal, and it didn't take long before desperate mothers came to Harry to offer their own or their daughters' services, hoping to receive the same deal.

Somewhat taken back, Harry met with Draco and Lord Amberhook asking them for their advice. Soon a new department at the Ministry of Magic was formed where woman could apply to become a surrogate for one of Harry's squib children.

Not every child was born magical, but this time they were not discarded but cared for and in time several villages was created where magical and squib families lived in harmony. Interestingly enough, without fail, those squibs produced magical offspring within three generations.

Slowly but surely, the magical population increased and the stigma of being a Muggleborn lessened now that the magical world knew where their magic came from. Not everyone was happy, of course, but change was in the wind and for most part it was good.

As for Lord Peverell, he lived a long happy life. He took up his forefather's seat in the Wizengamot and worked tirelessly to improve the magical world, working _with_ the magical people instead of walking over them the way Dumbledore had done.

Harry ended up falling in love with Draco and the two of them bonded and had several children together.

To Harry's delight, his seventh son born from the incubators was accepted as the new Lord Potter, ensuring that his father's blood line was not lost forever.

And when the time came for Death to collect this Lord Peverell Harry went with him willingly, more than ready to be reunited with his loved ones.


	9. The Wrath of Godric Gryffindor

_The Wrath of Godric Gryffindor_

The soulprint of Godric Gryffindor listened in growing horror as the current Headmaster of his beloved school plotted and planned the future of one Harry James Potter.

The future Albus Dumbledore envisioned for the babe was not one that Godric could ever agree with. And since Godric shared blood with young Harry and Albus didn't, Dumbledore's wishes on the matter were going to be summarily ignored.

Returning to his quarters, Godric paced as he pondered on which path would keep his young charge the safest.

Making up his mind, Godric stood up straight and shouted, "Gryffindor elves to me."

Immediately, a forth of the Hogwarts' elves appeared, each bearing an attentive look on their faces.

"I need five of you to pop to the Headmaster's location. He is not to know that you are there. Wait for him to dispose of Harry Potter. The moment he and his people are gone you are to bring the baby left behind to me."

"Yes Master Gryff," five elves intoned as they popped away.

"Who would you say was Lily Evan's closest friend?" Godric asked the remaining elves.

"Severus Snape, Master. But they had a falling out and stopped in their fifth year," one of the elves volunteered hesitantly.

"But you would still say he was her best friend?" Godric persisted.

"Yes Master Gryff."

"Then bring him here also," Godric barked.

Immediately two elves popped away and they soon returned with a human wreck. Severus didn't seem to be aware of his surrounding in the slightest. The moment he was released, he crawled into the nearest corner where he proceeded to softly weep the tears of those who had lost everything.

Godric gave him a compassionate look but otherwise left the human alone.

oOo

The day seemed to crawl by but eventually, well after dark had fallen, the five elves returned with a sleeping baby and a letter.

Godric took the letter and scanned before throwing it aside with a scoff.

Walking over to the baby he frowned in displeasure as he realised that no one had bothered to change the baby or even dress him properly. He was still in his pyjamas, his face was still bloody, although there were evidence that someone had made a small effort to clear it away, and Godric was prepared to bet a substantial fortune that no one had bothered to feed the poor child either.

"Severus Snape, Harry Potter needs you," Godric stated with a ringing voice.

At first there was no reaction from the human wreck, but then it stirred.

"Harry? No, Black took him away. He is gone. They are both gone."

"And I took him back. But he needs tended to. Come child, see, your Harry is here," Godric coaxed gently.

Black eyes stared at him in disbelief, but then the black clad form seemed to explode into action and the moment that Snape saw the baby he snatched him up and began to examine him, making sure that he was all right.

It didn't take long for the Potions master to notice the same things that Godric had and Snape immediately set about to deal with them.

Before long Harry was changed and dressed warmly in clothes the elves had found, suckling contently from a bottle of milk the elves also had produced from somewhere.

Godric watched with a proud, parental look on his face. He had chosen well. But this was only the first step. There were still a lot that needed to be done if he was to keep his descendant safe.

Speaking of...

"Salazar Slytherin, get your reprobate arse in here," Godric barked, waiting impatiently for his fellow Founder to appear.

"You called, impetuous one?"

"Yes. One of my blood lines were attacked tonight. Startled me awake, throwing me into a right mess. Who was supposed to keep watch this century anyway? Whoever it was made a right mess of things.

"But we can argue about that later. I need you to look at the lad's scar. There is something wrong with it, and you are more skilled than I when it comes to the Darker Arts," Godric admitted, gesturing for Salazar to move closer to their human guests.

The Slytherin founder moved closer to the baby, watching in amusement as his human guardian kept the baby close, even going so far as to glare daggers at the soulprint.

"Peace, child, I'm not going to hurt him. On the contrary, I am going to do my best to help heal him. May I see his wound?" Salazar asked softly, recognising well the signs of an overprotective father.

Severus hesitated, but if Harry was hurt...

Reluctantly, he shifted his grip on Lily's son, allowing the spirit to come get a better look of the boy.

"Hmm... you are right, Ric, that is something nasty. I suspect I know what happened, but to be absolutely sure... Where is Rowena? She always was the best one of us when it comes to time magic," Salazar remarked.

"I don't know. As I said, I was startled awake to find the current Headmaster plotting the demise of one of my blood lines. Hogwarts are sleeping, and I couldn't sense you three either. I have no idea what happened," Godric grumbled before shouting, "Rowena! You are needed," loud enough to shake the dust from the walls.

"Godric? Salazar? What's wrong?" the soulprint of Rowena Ravenclaw asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"You tell me," Godric replied dryly. "Were you the one on watch? I woke up to find everyone asleep, even Hogwarts."

"No, Helga is supposed to be on watch. What year is it? She was supposed to wake me up at the start of the nineteenth century," Rowena replied, bewildered.

"Very well, I'll go look for the wench while you two figure out what is wrong with my descendant," Godric ordered, marching through the nearest wall, intent on is mission.

"Oh he is riled," Rowena said with a wince.

"And rightly so. Take a look at that wound. What do you make of it?" Salazar asked, redirecting their Seer's attention to the babe.

oOo

By the time Godric returned with a subdued looking witch the two founders had agreed on a course of action.

"Good you have returned. Severus here tells me that attack took place about twenty-four hours ago. Which is a good thing since the spell gets draining the further back we have to go. Pay close attention since I will only be able to do this once," Rowena warned, directing the Potions master to place the baby back on the table.

The four soulprints and the sole human placed themselves around the table and watched intently as Rowena began to glow and chant in high Druid.

Slowly an image formed, blurry and indistinct until it snapped into focus with a sharp crack, causing Severus to jump in fright.

In the centre of the image was a black haired male playing with a familiar baby.

"That's James Potter. Harry's father," Severus said through a tight throat.

The image remained peaceful for the next five minutes and then the front door shuddered as it came under attack.

"He is here! We were betrayed! Lily, take Harry and run!" James shouted as he dived for his wand and began to fight the figure coming through the wreck that used to be a door.

Lily appeared at a run, snatched the baby up and headed for the stairs, muttering under her breath.

The four founders watched avidly while Severus could only stand there and live through the final moments of his one true friend.

Lily headed for the nursery where she lovingly placed her baby boy in his cot. Only the founders noticed the faint golden glow that now surrounded the child.

Then Voldemort appeared, gruesome and terrifying.

Severus could only weep silently as he watched Lily fight valiantly for her son's life, until she was hit with the Unforgivable and she dropped to the floor, dead.

The glow around Harry intensified.

"So this is the child that is destined to bring my downfall? Pitiful. Just as his parents. I am doing you a favour, child. Under Dumbledore's rule you will amount to nothing. Avada Kedavra," Voldemort cast with a sneer, only to gasp in horror as the baby glowed brightly as the spell hit him, it was as if a miniature sun had suddenly appeared in the room for a split second.

Then the light was gone and the spell was speeding towards the Dark Lord. The unprepared Dark Lord who was hit with his own spell.

Voldemort howled in rage as the Avada curse hit him, forcibly tearing his soul from his body. For a moment he hung there, stunned, then he proceeded to tear around the room, raging with impotent fury, before he disappeared through a hole in the wall.

It was then Rowena ended the spell and the four founders shifted so that they could peer closer at the wound on the baby's forehead.

"Interesting. She must have planned this," Salazar mused.

"Who, Lily?" Severus asked, finally coming out of his daze.

"Yes, I am speaking of the mother of this child. Did you notice that she was speaking as she fled with her babe? Yet she did not flee far. She took him to the nursery, she was clearly willing to fight for his life, and yet she did not cast a single spell to defend herself or her child. Why ever not?

"Because she had something else in mind. She made use of her own death. She invoked an ancient ritual, willingly giving her son everything she was, and everything she could become, ensuring his survival," Rowena said, her admiration clear in her voice.

"She couldn't have survived?" Severus asked, his eyes beseeching the founder to give him the answer he wanted, he needed.

"Nay child, once the ritual has been invoked there is no hope for the one initiating it. Yet for the ritual to actually work there can be no hesitation. You have to love the recipient with every fibre of your heart, mind, and soul. The smallest hint of regret, of vacillation, and the ritual will fail.

"Clearly, Lily Potter was willing to do anything for her baby. Remember her, child, remember her and let her go. Do not carry her death with a heavy heart for she embraced it willingly," Rowena said compassionately, watching with sad eyes as the Potions master broke down completely.

Sighing sadly, Helga directed one of the elves to pour a Sleeping Draught down his throat. "Hopefully, he will feel better tomorrow. Now, what has happened? Godric was in an awful state when he came to wake me up."

.

.

oOo

.

.

_The New Headmaster of Hogwarts_

Severus woke with a soft groan; he felt horrible. Then the taste on his tongue registered and he bolted upright, reaching for his wand as he scanned the room for threats.

"Good you are awake. The wee one needs to be changed and fed and he won't allow the house-elves near."

Severus blinked dumbly as he took in the four glowing... shapes. Then the memories came crashing down and he was forced to close his eyes as the pain hit his heart once more.

Lily was dead.

His beautiful, vivacious Lily was dead.

But her son was not.

Her son needed him.

Pushing his grief aside, Severus staggered to his feet and made his way over to the table and the padded basket sitting on top of it.

Looking inside, Severus couldn't help but smile at the scowling baby. A scowl that swiftly turned into a baby grin when Harry spotted him. Waving his arms he immediately made his will clear.

Chuckling slightly, Severus obediently picked the baby up and held him close to his chest, taking a moment to revel in the fact that a piece of Lily still existed. Still lived.

Locking his feelings firmly behind his Occlumency shields, Severus turned business like as he gently undressed the baby, bathed him, put a new diaper on, re-clothed him and settled down to feed him the gruel one of the house-elves had produced.

Harry was a bit fussy, but not overly so, although he kept looking around as if he expected someone to appear.

_Lily,_ Severus thought, his heart aching for the boy. _He is looking for Lily. Merlin, but how do I tell him that his mother is dead? That she will never play with him again? Or sing him to sleep?_

_...How do I tell him that this is all my fault?_

"Do you think you can remove it?" Godric asked, effectively brining Severus back to the present.

"Yes. Lily's sacrifice is protecting him. I should have little problem removing the thing, especially since it hasn't had a chance to take root yet," Salazar replied, a sombre look on his face.

"What are you talking about?" Severus asked, feeding another spoon of gruel to the impatient baby.

"When the spell rebound, it hit Riddle hard. Hard enough that a sliver of his soul came lose. That slither is now trying to burrow into Harry, seeking to connect with his core. If that happens, the boy will become a source of magic for Riddle to draw upon. Obviously, we cannot allow that to happen, so we will remove the soul slither before it can do any permanent harm."

Severus shuddered and fought the urge to grab Harry and never let him go. He had a piece of the Dark Lord's _soul_ in his head? But...

"Dumbledore... Why didn't he do anything? Surely he must have known?" Severus asked desperately.

"Who knows what that mad man is thinking?" Godric scoffed. "From what I could gleam from his demented mind, Albus Dumbledore is convinced that only the child of prophecy is capable of killing Riddle. And since the child is a child of prophecy, mere mortals have no right meddling with him, and that the soul piece will somehow aid the boy when that day comes."

"What?! He is going to just _leave_ it there? Over my dead body," Severus growled, jumping in shock when Harry laughed and began to clap his hands.

Making a face, he fed the rest of the gruel to the boy, giving him a bottle of pumpkin juice when he refused to eat any more.

"Shall we begin?" Rowena asked, getting three firm nods in reply.

"Good. Severus, pick Harry up and hold him firmly. This should not hurt him, but we need for him to keep his head as still as possible," Rowena ordered, nodding in approval when Severus picked the baby up and settled him in the crook of his arm.

"That is perfect," Salazar said, stepping closer to the child. Placing his left hand a few inches above the wound on his forehead, Salazar began to glow as he started to summon the soul piece of his current heir.

For long moments nothing happened, then the wound burst open and began to bleed profusely as a black cloud slowly was forced out of its hiding place.

Harry emitted an ear piercing wail of protest, not happy with what was happening. He was also starting to glow with the same golden glow as that night and with a wail of its own the soul piece fled its sanctuary, right into the soulprint of Salazar Slytherin.

"Blech, that was nasty." Salazar shuddered in revulsion.

Before anyone could notice what was happening, five more black shapes came zooming into the room, impacting with Salazar who promptly bent over and retched miserably.

oOo

"Well, I didn't expect that to happen," Salazar stated once he had recovered from his horrendous experience.

"Were those...?" Severus asked, not sure whether he wanted to have his suspicion confirmed or not.

"The other soul pieces Riddle had hidden away in an attempt to escape death? Yes it was. Urg, but he is a nasty thing. A blight to the noble name of Slytherin. I can't wait until we kill him. He is a danger to us, to the magical world, and to magic herself. We cannot allow him to live," Salazar ordered firmly.

"Do not worry, old friend, we will make sure he is no longer a danger to anyone," Helga promised solemnly.

"Good. So... What do we do now?" Salazar asked, looking a little lost.

"We do what we always do. We look after the children," Godric stated forcefully. "Hogwarts, in case you hadn't noticed, is in a mess. It will take us years to get her back into shape. The rivalry between our Houses has gotten completely out of hand, Zar. Riddle hasn't exactly helped things on that front. Rowena's House are filled with little snots who thinks they are better than everyone else just because they are smart, and don't get me started on my own House...

"Dumbledore might have started out as a decent Headmaster but he allowed the war to steal his focus. These days he is more politician than Headmaster and I say we kick him out and select a new master for our beloved school."

"I don't know, Ric, it isn't as if we have a handy candidate to replace him with," Helga cautioned worriedly.

"Can you look me in the face and say that a man who was willing to do that to an innocent child is suitable to be headmaster of our school?" Godric demanded furiously, pointing an angry finger at Harry who was happily resting against Severus' chest as the Potions master red to him.

"No, but..."

Godric looked like he was about to explode any second.

"Calm yourself, Ric, it is obvious that Helga is still influenced by whatever caused her to go to sleep without waking one of us first.

"Why don't I go and see what I can do to fix that while the two of you plot who shall replace Dumbledore, eh? That should keep you occupied for an hour or two," Rowena stated sweetly as she grabbed hold of her fellow founder and disappeared through a wall.

"I hate it when she does that," Godric complained with a pout.

"It is better she is out of the way. She will only spend the time arguing with us if she is here," Salazar said, giving his fellow soulprint a pointed look.

"True," Godric sighed. "Doesn't mean I don't hate it when she leaves an argument before it can properly unfold."

Salazar laughed. "Don't pout, it doesn't become you. Tell me instead who you wish to instate as Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Harry Potter of course," Godric replied with a hearty laugh.

"Erm... Ric, the babe is just that, a fifteen months old baby," Salazar said, acting as if the other founder had lost his mind.

"I know that. And I also know that we have an excellent interim headmaster in the lad there. Unfortunately, no one will accept him if we make him Headmaster. But, if we make him guardian of Harry Potter, and make _him_ the Headmaster, we kill several birds with one stone, the public will either cheer or complain, and while they are busy doing that we are free to restore our beloved Hogwarts," Godric replied with a shit eating grin.

"That idea is crazy," Salazar sighed.

"Well?"

"Yet it is so crazy that it might actually work. The way your crazy ideas usually do.

"...Very well, we might as well try it," Salazar said after a moment of thought.

"Good. Severus my boy, how do you feel about becoming the next Headmaster of Hogwarts?"

"You want me to be what?!" Severus cried, almost dropping the baby in his shock.

"Become the next Headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore needs to be replaced immediately."

"And you honestly expect me to do a better job than the defeater of Grindelwald?" Severus asked in disbelief.

"The defeater of who? Never mind, not important," Godric said, waving the issue aside. "Would it make you feel better if we told you would be interim Headmaster until the real one is old enough to take over the job?"

"Who are you talking about?" Severus asked suspiciously.

"Young Harry, of course," Godric beamed happily.

"Harry... Are... are you _crazy_? Harry Potter is a child, a mere _baby_, for Merlin's sake," Severus hissed in outrage.

"Which is why he will need a guardian. I have decided that that guardian shall be you," Godric declared imperiously.

"But... but... What about Black?" Severus asked almost desperately, latching on to the first name that popped into his head that had the ability to overthrow his claim on Potter's son. Not that he particularly _wanted_ to give Harry up, but he didn't want to become Headmaster of Hogwarts either.

"Black?" Godric asked.

"Sirius Black, Harry's godfather," Severus replied reluctantly, unconsciously clutching Harry a little closer.

"And where is this Black now?" Godric asked, displeased.

"I don't know. He came to the nursery, snatched Harry from my arms, yelling at me to get out, and then...

"I think he gave Harry to Hagrid, and then... I don't know. I think I left around then," Severus admitted, having no clear recollection of what he had done from the moment Harry was snatched from him until he had been arrested for being a Death Eater.

"A godfather who gives up his charge on the very eve his parents' has been murdered is not fit to hold the title of godfather. Sirius Black has not further claim on the child of my blood," Godric stated, all but growling with fury.

"Death Eater! I'm a Death Eater, there is no way they will accept me as Headmaster. They will probably throw me in Azkaban for escaping from the holding cell.

"Merlin, I'm an escaped fugitive, aren't I?" Severus moaned.

"A Death Eater you say? Did you join them willingly?" Salazar asked, giving the Potions master a pointed look to prevent him from sinking any further in his self-pity.

"Um... sort of?" Severus replied self-consciously.

Salazar snorted. "I very much doubt it. Very well, let me see it."

"See what?"

"Your Dark Mark," Salazar replied promptly.

Severus gave him a suspicious look but obediently shifted Harry so he could remove his robe and bare his left forearm.

"Hmm... A nasty piece of magic that. Fortunately for you, I have soaked up all the memories of my heir, which means that I am able to do _this_..." Salazar said, placing his hand on the Dark Mark and began to hiss.

When he removed his hand the Dark Mark was gone. There wasn't even the smallest hint it had ever been there.

"How...? Why...? Why are you doing this?" Severus asked brokenly as his world fell to pieces around him once more.

"Because you are decent man, Severus Tobias Snape. Because you loved and cared for Lily Evans, even when everything around you conspired against you.

"Because you care for Harry Potter, not because he is a child of prophecy, not because he is the Boy Who Lived, but because he is the son of Lily Potter, your friend," Godric said gently, wishing he could pull the hurting young man into a comforting embrace.

Fortunately, someone else could do it for him and he watched proudly as Harry cooed and covered Severus' face with slobbering baby kisses.

"But I know nothing about being a Headmaster," Severus protested weakly.

"Don't worry. For now you will be little but our figurehead as we set to right what idiots and dunderheads has wrought asunder," Godric said with a beaming smile that bordered on being manic.

Looking down at the baby, Severus couldn't help but smile as well. "Very well, I will become this one's guardian, but you will deal with Dumbledore, Black, the ministry, and everyone else who comes calling. I refuse to. And I'm not giving up my potions, I refuse."

"No worries there, lad, none of us gave up the magics that interested us while we run the school, I see no reason for you to do so," Salazar soothed. Then a crafty look crept across his face. "Potions you say? Would you be interested in trading recipes and tricks of the trade?"

Severus adopted his own crafty look. "I would love to, Lord Slytherin, I would love to. As time permit, of course."

"Of course," Salazar nodded wisely. "I suggest you do what always worked for me."

"And that was...?"

"Dump the more onerous chores on Godric," Salazar replied, whooping with laughter at the indignant 'Hey!' coming from said Founder.

"Why do I get the feeling that our lives will be filled with chaos from now on, Harry?" Severus asked the baby solemnly.

"Baba!" Harry gurgled and grabbed for Severus nose.

"Baba indeed," Severus sighed, settling back to watch the two founders chase each other around the room. Hopefully, he had not sold his soul to the devil this time.

"I guess only time will tell," he whispered into Harry's soft baby locks. "Merlin knows what Lucius will say about all this. Or what Black will do when he finds out. Or Dumbledore when _he_ does."

Filled with sudden glee, Severus couldn't wait to find out how the world would react when they found out that he, Severus Snape, was the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. Too bad James was already dead for the news would surely have killed him.

Pausing in their chase, Godric and Salazar shared a smug look. Obstacle number one was had just been overcome. Now the true fun could begin.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This is the start of a new story I began a while back. I truly and really like it, but... I am utterly stuck on what happens next. Apparently, I suck at writing about babies because I have no idea what to do with baby Harry, sigh.

Oh well, hopefully, I will one day get inspiration back and continue this. I hope you enjoyed it.

Janara


	10. Shattered

_Shattered. _

_It's funny_, Harry thought as he paced back and forth, waiting for the potion to finish its work, _what a combination of boredom and a fear of sleep can do. If it hadn't been for me fearing for my life if I woke my uncle up again with my nightmares, and me going out of my mind with worry over what Voldemort is up to, would I have gone to Diagon Alley this summer? Would I have spent my days studying to get my mind off things? _

Shaking his head, knowing full well that spending your time pondering about 'what if' got you nowhere, Harry glanced over at the book, sighing gustily when he saw that it was still glowing faintly blue, a clear indication that the process wasn't finished yet.

Resuming his pacing, Harry thought back to the start of the summer holidays. He had been sullen and moody, more so than normal when being forced to return to the Dursleys. But really, the adults in his life, who was regarded by so many as being the best and brightest in Britain if the press was to be believed, had acted like real jerks if you asked Harry.

Yes, he knew that he had to return to his family. Yes, he knew that he couldn't spend the summer with Sirius the way he wanted to. But to just be dumped at the Muggles with a cheery, 'see you later, mate,' that hurt.

To know that Sirius would rather rush off and do some work for Dumbledore than spending time with Harry to help him get over the trauma of witnessing Cedric's death and Voldemort's rebirth hurt even worse. And he didn't even have the comfort of his friends' letters since they only consisted of some strange shorthand code that only wetted Harry's curiosity and did nothing to give him the information he needed. He couldn't even find escape through their summer activities since they didn't mention anything about what they were doing since they bloody well didn't _tell_ him anything.

And that was the reason as to why he was now pacing around his very own private Potions lab, waiting for the potion he had just brewed to finish working so he could find out if he had managed to do it correct this time.

Thinking back, Harry couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn't given in to his despair and gone off to Diagon Alley, despite having been told repeatedly to stick close to Privet Drive since no one knew what the Dark Lord was up to.

But fear for his life, not to mention his sanity, had caused Harry to throw the warnings to the winds and headed off anyway. Besides, since no one seemed inclined to help him, then Harry just had to help himself, right?

Sighing gustily, Harry shook his head, wondering just how thick Dumbledore and the others were. And what about Pomfrey, she was a nurse, wasn't she? She at least should know all about trauma, even mental ones, right? Had no one realised just how badly off he had been? Hadn't anyone realised just how much the last year had affected him?

Apparently not, since no one had approached him once he had been released from the hospital wing.

Harry snorted and ran a hand through his hair. The more he learned, the more he began to… _distrust_ the wizarding world. At least those in charge. Didn't any of them have any damned _sense_? Or did they think that everything just ran off him like water off a goose just because he was the Boy Who Lived? Didn't he deserve some care and consideration? Or was the disinterest in his welfare a side product of him being an orphan? Did Dumbledore and the others really think that the Dursleys cared about him and would help him with any emotional scars he received while at school?

Harry huffed a laugh at the mere thought. The Dursleys would never do anything for him that would actually benefit him. Rather the opposite. Just take this summer. More than once, Harry had woken up by his own terrified screams. Had his 'loving' family done anything to help him? Of course not. Uncle Vernon had gone into a rage, coming storming into Harry's room and threatening him with bodily harm if he didn't cease to cause such a ruckus.

From the look in the man's eyes, Harry had instinctively known that the next time he woke his uncle up, Vernon would either beat him to a bloody pulp – or worse – or throw him right out of the house.

Now, leaving the Dursleys permanently had been a long cherished dream of Harry's, but he also had a feeling that Dumbledore wouldn't allow it, and would find a way to interfere somehow, making the already explosive situation worse. So Harry had made his way into Diagon Alley, intent on finding a way to keep his uncle off his back.

And a solution had been found. Not a perfect one, but a solution all the same.

Harry had bought himself a trunk.

A very nice, large trunk.

A trunk that contained a bedroom, a kitchen, a library, a Potions lab of all things, and three empty room Harry hadn't decided what to do with yet. The best thing with the trunk was that it was charmed so that no sound could be heard on the outside when he was inside and the lid was closed. The second best thing was that a notice-me-not charm designed for Muggles had been put on the outside, ensuring that Vernon Dursley could not take this trunk away too and lock it up somewhere.

Harry had been most pleased with those features and once his business with the trunk maker was done, the teen had headed off to Flourish and Blotts. A quick check with the Goblins had made Harry aware that he had access to far more money than he thought, allowing him to splurge nicely during his shopping spree.

Entering the bookshop, Harry had made a beeline for the section with Defence texts, and he had spent the next hour browsing the shelves carefully, selecting the books that seemed the most useful. Harry was determined that if he ever came face to face with Voldemort and his people again, then he would at least know how to defend himself, not wanting to leave it up to dumb luck, even if that had been what had saved him the last few times.

Next, Harry went in search of books on Healing, figuring that knowing how to prevent oneself from bleeding to death, or how to set and/or numb broken bones might very well save his life as well one day, or the life of one of his friends.

From there, Harry had reluctantly headed for the Potions section. He still held no great love for that subject, mostly due to Snape and his blatantly unfair treatment, but Harry knew himself. Learning new Defence spells were good and dandy, but not being able to practise them, it would soon drive Harry up the wall. And since he didn't dare ask the trunk maker for a charm so that he could practice magic down in his new trunk, Harry was stuck with Potions as the only brand of magic, next to Herbology, that he could safely perform during the summer. Sighing forlornly, Harry carefully went through the Potions books on offer, picking out the ones that looked promising.

As a treat to himself, Harry then spent some happy times browsing Charms and Transfigurations, picking out books that were both useful and those geared more towards pranks. Perhaps if he knew more, he would be able to avoid falling victim to the twins and their pranks.

By the time Harry finally left the shop he had spent a small fortune, not feeling any regrets. But the crates did weigh him down quite a bit, so Harry made it back to the trunk shop and bought a bottomless bag, sweet talking the clerk into adding a Muggle repellent charm on that one too.

His last stop before heading home had been the Apothecary where Harry bought a Potion kit for the years one to five, ignoring the astonished look from the clerk. Having seen some of the recipes in the books he'd ended up buying, Harry was now determined to learn to understand Potions, or die trying.

It would seem that Snape had been correct when he made that speech in first year, and Harry was resolute to learn, if not how to put a stopper to death, at least how to brew headache cures, bruise salves, and other useful things that might come in handy when you had a madman after you who seemed determined to get your head, no matter what the cost.

It had been a pleased with himself Harry Potter who returned to Privet Drive that afternoon, and the teenager couldn't wait to get started on his new books.

And that is why Harry was now pacing back and forth in his very own Potions lab, waiting for the potions to stop glowing so that he could check and see if he had managed to brew the blasted thing correctly _this_ time.

oOo

"Finally!" Harry muttered as the glow around the leather bound journal at last died down. "About time too if you ask me. The book said it would take about half an hour, but the glow lasted closer to an hour. What does that mean? Does it mean that I failed? Or did I somehow manage to brew a stronger potion then intended?"

Harry stared at the journal for several long minutes before sighing ruefully. "I guess the only way to find out is to actually check the thing. Right? Right!" he added with more enthusiasm than he was actually feeling and made his way over to the silver dish where the journal was waiting for him.

Picking the book up gingerly, Harry noted that it was completely dry, which should be an impossibility considering the large amount of liquid he had poured over it. Unpleasant thoughts of Tom Riddle's diary flashed before Harry's mind, but the teen pushed them determinedly away. This was nothing like that, and there should be no conscience or memory trapped inside _this_ journal.

Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the book and whooped with joy as he saw the crest depicted on the first page. At least he had gotten things correct thus far. Unlike his first four attempts, which had resulted in one journal burnt to cinders, one soggy mess where the potion had never been absorbed into the book at all, one journal where only half the text had been readable and the other half had been nothing but squiggles, and one journal that had been completely blank.

Turning the page with reverent care, Harry's eyes opened wide with pleasure as he saw his name written in a fancy script in the middle of the page. Above his name was written in smaller letters the names of his mother and father, and Harry reached out with a trembling hand, tracing the letters forming the words James Charlus Potter and Lily Marie Potter nee Evans.

Next, Harry's eyes lingered over the dates of his parents births, 27-03-1960 and 30-01-1960, finding it amusing somehow to learn that his mother had been the older of the two, if only by two months.

Not bothering to go further back at the moment, Harry didn't seek out the names of his grandparents, even though he didn't have a clue as to their names, and went back to look at his own name and the date of his birth, 31-07-1980.

_Hang on a moment_! Harry suddenly thought as he realised what was bothering him about his parents' birth dates_. Shouldn't there be a date for their deaths? _Unconsciously squinting his eyes, Harry tried to recall the only class trip he had been allowed to go on while in Muggle school. The teacher had taken the class on a trip to a famous church, telling them about various historical events that had taken place, and also showing them the crypt and a few of the bodies that had been buried there. Each of the nameplates had held the name of the person buried there, the date of their birth, and _the date of their death_.

_What does this mean? _Harry wondered, looking down at the names of his parents. _Does this mean that they are alive somewhere? But... if they are, then why haven't they come for me? Why did they leave me here with the Dursleys? Don't they... Don't they love me? _Harry wondered, fighting to hold back the tears that was suddenly filling his eyes and threatening to spill down his cheeks.

_No!_ he thought, shaking his head almost violently. _My parents love me! Everyone's told me that! They love me and they would __never__ abandon me to the Muggles! They just wouldn't! _Harry snarled to himself, wiping away the tears with his sleeve, his movements jerky due to his anger.

"I just made a mistake that is all. I'm no genius when it comes to Potions, everyone knows that. I'll just have to redo the potion, that's all!" Harry whispered to the air, trying with all his might to believe his own words. But for some reason his own words sounded hollow and they lacked conviction.

Snarling angrily at himself for daring to doubt his parents' love for him, Harry was about to snap the linage book close and throw it into the wall when a second realisation caused him to freeze. He went so still in his shock that he was unable to even pull air into his lungs.

Below the name of Harry James Potter were other names, all connected to him and to his parents with thin, damning lines.

Marigold Jeanette Potter, 03-03-1982

Primrose Louisa Potter, 04-08-1984

Heather Paulina Potter, 14-02-1987

Jasmine Maria Potter, 28-02-1989

Paul Orion Potter, 15-09-1991

Wolfgang Remus Potter, 01-01-1994

Crashing down onto the floor, his legs unable to support him, Harry stared at the names in horror as realisation slowly sank in. James and Lily Potter were not dead. His parents were still alive. They had abandoned him, left him at the mercy of the Dursleys. They had left him behind and gotten on with their lives, even going as far as to creating a new family. From the large number of siblings Harry hadn't known he had, he would say that neither of his parents was missing him much. _Probably too busy taking care of their children_, Harry thought with a sneer.

_But what about me? Am I not their child too? How could they do this to me? Why did they leave me? Why? In Merlin's name, why?! _Unable to hold in the despair he was feeling, Harry threw his head back and screamed, not caring whether his uncle heard him or not.

Once the first scream was allowed to escape the confine of his throat, Harry found that he couldn't stop. All the emotions he had been keeping bottled up deep inside him seemed to be welling up through him, and there wasn't a damned thing Harry could do to stop them. Not that he particularly felt like stopping.

Vaguely, the devastated teen felt a searing pain go through him, seemingly centred on his back, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered at the moment, nothing at all. He had been betrayed. Betrayed by everyone he held dear, and Harry didn't think he would ever forgive them.

_Ever_.

Another burst of searing pain went through him, and then Harry knew no more.

oOo

"Rare is it that someone so young is made into one of us."

"True, but I for my part am more surprised to discover that the Boy Who Lived was so severely betrayed that magic had no other option than to make him kin. I wonder what happened to him? Whatever it was, it had to be bad."

"Look around you! A fool can see that the Muggles abused him, and we all know how the wizarding world has been treating him. How could he _not_ become one of us?!"

Harry floated in nothingness, and he was quite happy to be there, actually. Here, there was no pain. No one was making demands of him that he couldn't or wouldn't fulfil. Here, no one expected him to be their hero, their rescuer, their saviour.

Unfortunately, his peaceful sanctuary was invaded by three voices that seemed set on arguing with each other. Right in Harry's ear.

Annoyed at having his peace disturbed so rudely, Harry opened an eye slightly and managed a weak scowl. "I have no idea who the hell you lot are, but could you take your pointless arguing and get the hell away from me?!" he snarled, albeit the sound of his voice was weaker and more pathetic sounding than he liked. Not at all the impressive snap he had been aiming for.

"Oh, he is awake," the female voice squealed, causing Harry's scowl to deepen. Couldn't these people take a hint? He didn't want them here!

"It never ceases to amaze me how you never fail to state the obvious," a snarky voice said, reminding Harry quiet a lot of Snape. Harry frowned in displeasure. First, these morons disturb the best rest Harry has had in ages, and now they make him think of his least favourite Professor!? Who the hell were these people and who had invited them to crash Harry's party?

_Wait! How did these idiots find me? I thought I was safe with the Dursleys just because no one could find me. Another lie from Dumbledore? _Harry wondered to himself. Realising that he was not going to get any answers unless he actually faced the invaders, Harry sighed deeply and forced his eyes open. Gathering his strength, he rolled over onto his side and from there it was easy to get into a sitting position.

Stretching his body, Harry couldn't help but wonder what had happened to leave him feeling as weak as a newborn kitten. His muscles all felt as steady as wet noodles, and it was disquieting to realise that if it came to a fight, Harry would be helpless to defend himself. Not that Harry was about to inform the idiots of that. For all Harry knew, they could be a new brand of Death Eaters sent to torture him – by inane, endless _prattle_.

"Awake finally, are you? Good! I was beginning to think that you were going to sleep the entire day away. I do have other things to do than watch you recover," Snarky Voice snapped.

Harry snorted and turned his head towards the speaker. "I didn't invite you to come here, so if you are wasting your time, then you have no one to blame but yourself!" he snarled, glowering darkly at the speaker, not about to be intimidated by this moron. Who, for the record, had invaded Harry's private space without as much as a by your leave. How dare he act like Snape and accuse him of things he hadn't done?!

"Silence! We did not come here to argue, and unless you can keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Galen, then you can leave. This does not concern you, and I have no idea why Ariana allowed you to come along."

"On your head be it!" Galen snarled furiously as he spread an impressive set of wings, and disappeared.

Harry blinked, that had been... unexpected.

"Oh, don't be so hard on him, Apollo, he's had a hard and difficult life."

"And we haven't?!" Apollo asked, staring at his companion incredulous.

The female lowered her eyes and refrained from replying.

"Just who _are_ you people?" Harry asked, an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. Something big was happening, something big and important, and as usual, he was caught smack in the middle of it.

The two strangers turned to look at him and Harry couldn't help but squirm slightly under their gaze. Then Apollo smiled apologetically and moved forward, holding out his hand. "My apologies, young one, we have been inexcusably rude, haven't we? My only defence is that we did not expect you to wake up quite so soon. I am Apollo, and my companion is Ariana. As for what we are doing here..." Apollo trailed off and seemed to be taking a fortifying breath.

"We are of a race called the Avengers. Have you heard of it?"

Harry frowned as the name made a faint bell ring at the back of his mind. The name was sort of familiar. "Umm, yeah, I think so," he replied slowly as he tried to dredge up the elusive memory. "Oh yeah! I wanted to see if the wizarding world knew anything about angels, so I looked them up," Harry said, growing excited as the memory finally allowed itself to be found and brought out of hiding.

"The book mentioned three types of angels, Angels, Fallen Angels, and False Angels." Harry frowned again as he struggled to recall the small bits of information he had managed to gleam from the book. "It had quite a lot to say about the first two, but as for the third... All I can remember is something about the wings of a False Angel were black like those of a Fallen Angel, but unlike the Fallen Angels, the False Angels' feathers were edged with silver.

"Hmm... It never did say why the False Angels were called False. The footnote said something about Avengers, but all it would say was to stay away from them. What exactly is a False Angel? And what is an Avenger?" Harry asked, glancing up at Apollo who seemed to give off an aura of comfort and trustworthiness.

"I'm surprised you knew as much as that. Not much is known about us, and we prefer to keep it that way," Apollo said, sitting down on the edge of Harry's bed. A bed that had not been there before, and was distinctly out of place in a Potions lab, Harry belatedly realised.

"You see, child, an Avenger is not a natural species, but one created by Magic," Apollo said, effectively grabbing Harry's attention.

"Huh?" Harry said intelligently, his brain refusing to decipher the cryptic statement. "I thought all magical creatures were created by Magic."

Apollo chuckled, but it was a kind laugh with no hints of cruelty to it. "My apologies again, that was a somewhat muddled statement, wasn't it? What I was attempting to explain was that most magical creatures are born. They have parents that carry the blood and thus they are born into their inheritance.

"But Avengers are different. They are born through betrayal. And I am not talking about casual betrayal, but a betrayal so deep that it affects a person's body, mind, magic, and soul. The Avenger might be awakened from one single betrayal, although that is extremely rare. Usually an Avenger is created from several betrayals, taking place over an extended period of time, until they are faced with a betrayal they simply cannot recover from.

"That is what happened to you, is it not, young one?" Apollo asked, looking intently into Harry's green eyes, his own midnight blue ones filled with a mix of compassion, sympathy, and empathy.

There was no hint of pity, something Harry was extremely glad for since he didn't think he could handle pity at the moment. Glancing away, Harry's gaze fell on the cursed book that started the whole thing, and he began to shake in renewed anger.

"Hush, baby, calm down, you are no longer alone," Apollo whispered, carefully taking Harry into his arms, not surprised when the building fury turned into tears.

oOo

"Why are you here?" Harry asked, toying with a lock of Apollo's silver coloured hair, feeling surprisingly safe in the stranger's arms.

"Because we felt the birth of one of our own, and I happened to be closest to your location," Apollo replied calmly. "The same goes for Ariana and Galen."

Harry frowned, but he was just too tired to think. "I don't understand."

"You will find, young one, that by becoming an Avenger you were reborn. Your magic is different from what it was before. It is more alive now, easier for you to access, but also harder for you to control.

"You have also been changed in mind and body, which is not surprising since you now have a pair of beautiful wings," Apollo added with a chuckle.

"I have wings?!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief, this was news to him.

"Yes, you do, but you can inspect them later," Apollo replied calmly, refusing to relinquish his hold on Harry so that the teen could twist around and have a look.

Harry considered protesting, but he was too tired so he turned his attention to one of the other things the older Avenger had told him. "Why do you say that my mind has changed? What does that mean?"

"It is difficult to explain," Apollo said slowly, searching for the words to explain the unexplainable. "You no longer are who you were. Your anchors in this world... they are no longer there. You will need to re-examine every belief you have ever held. How much of the things you valued were formed by your own opinions, and how much of them were formed for you by the people betraying you?

"The same goes for the people in your life. Are your friends truly your friends? Or were they your friends because you were manipulated into thinking that they were your friends? This is something that has happened to each and every one of us. This is the reason as to why we _became_ an Avenger," Apollo said matter-of-factly.

"Why are we called Avengers?" Harry asked softly, not sure he wanted to know the answer, yet feeling that he already knew.

"Because we do not allow the slights performed towards us to go unpunished. We do not forget, we do not forgive, we do, however, get even," Apollo stated grimly, his gaze unfocused as he stared at something only he could see.

Harry thought about what the other Avenger had told him, it all made sense in a way. "But if an Avenger is born through betrayal, then how come there are so few of you? Betrayal happens all the time, doesn't it?" Harry asked with a small frown.

"Yes, it is a sad truth that betrayal happens on a daily bases," Apollo replied with a soft sigh. "It is also true that not everyone who is betrayed becomes an Avenger. Much depends on the method of betrayal, but it depends even more on the betrayed one's personality."

"How so?" Harry asked as his frown deepened.

"Most people who are betrayed become bitter. They stop trusting people and start to expect the worst of everyone. They might take revenge on those who wronged them, but the very act of betrayal left a black mark on their soul, twisting them and making them dark. Not Dark as in the Dark Arts, but dark nonetheless.

"Now, an Avenger keeps their positive outlook on life until the very moment the final betrayal occurs. You still tended to expect people to be good, didn't you, young one? You believed that their hearts were good and true, didn't you?"

Harry considered the question. Apart from the Slytherins he had thought the best of people, and wasn't that why their betrayal had hurt so much? "Yes I did," Harry murmured when it became obvious that the Avenger was waiting for a response.

"And now?" Apollo asked gently.

"Now... I'm not inclined to trust anyone," Harry said with certainty. "Then how come I'm trusting you? Is it because you are an Avenger too?"

"Not really. As I said before, Avengers loses their anchor to this world when they are reborn. To help grounding them, a mentor is selected to help them gain control over their magic and help them find their way around their new life. You must understand, little one, that nothing is what you thought it was, and everything you have been taught needs to be relearned. Your mind, your magic, your entire being is now different, and it will take you some time to regain your sense of equilibrium."

"But how did you know that we would be comfortable together? What if I didn't like you? Would you still have become my mentor? That's what you are, aren't you?" Harry asked hesitantly, needing to know, yet reluctant to offend the only one capable to help him.

"I didn't know whether we would be compatible or not, no. As I said, I just happened to be closest to your position when you were reborn. That is why Ariana came here too, although I'm not sure why Galen tagged along. He is a very bitter man, and no one quite understands how he was born an Avenger since his composition is rather... unique for our species. But I digress...

"If you hadn't connected with one of us, we would have taken you to others of our kind, and we would have kept on searching until your mentor was found."

"Oh... Thank you," Harry whispered, allowing himself to truly relax in Apollo's embrace since his breakdown. "So, what happens now?"

"Now we pack your things, although I doubt there is much you will want to keep when all is said and done, and then I will take you to my home where you will stay until you are ready to stand on your own two feet."

"Thank you, that's very kind of you," Harry mumbled, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. No one had ever offered to look after him like this before, not even the Weasleys.

"There is no need to thank me, little one. An Avenger did the same for me when I was reborn, and mayhap you will do the same for another newborn one of these days. That is the nature of the Avengers, we always look out for our own. Now come on, let's start packing your things," Apollo said enthusiastically, gently urging Harry to stand up.

"Why do you call me that? I do have a name, you know," Harry said, finding it rather refreshing not to being instantly recognised and fawned over.

"Wrong. You _had_ a name, but that was your human name. Your Avenger name will come to you once you have learned who you really are. I think you will find that your new persona will be quite different from the old one."

"I'm not sure whether to be relieved or frightened," Harry muttered, looking around his Potions lab with a lost look on his face. He really had no idea what to do next.

"I would suggest that you go with optimistic," Apollo said cheerfully. "You have been granted a fresh start; do not look upon it with fear, but look upon it with excitement. Many are those who wish for a new start, but all too few are granted the opportunity.

"Say, where are we by the way? Are we inside a trunk? This room doesn't feel like it is attached to a house," Apollo said with a puzzled frown, walking over to one of the walls and placing his hand on it.

"Yes, this is a trunk. My relatives are Muggles and they don't approve of magic. Or of me," Harry muttered under his breath, unaware that Avengers possessed an excellent hearing and totally missing the sharp look Apollo sent him, proving that his mentor had heard his whispered words.

"Then let us get out of this trunk and start packing your things," was all Apollo said, having a feeling that his job would be much more difficult than he'd thought based on how young his new charge was. Then again, for someone so young to become an Avenger, the betrayal had to be a dozy.

Harry nodded his head and scrambled out of the trunk, more than ready to leave the Dursleys. He hadn't wanted to come here in the first place, and there was no way in hell that he was going to abide with Dumbledore's wishes after _this_.

oOo

"Welcome to my home," Apollo said with a broad smile, slowly letting go of his new charge. "Let us get you settled in your quarters and then we will have some food before we talk, okay?"

Harry nodded as he slowly looked around the spacious patio they had arrived at. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but this was most definitely not it. Harry hadn't really gotten a chance to see the house since he was facing the gardens, but those looked to be something out of a fantasy. Cinderella and her prince would feel right at home here, or perhaps he had arrived at the home of Sleeping Beauty?

Harry shook his head, unable to hold back a smile at his silly thoughts. No, the Dursleys had never approved of anything that contained the 'M' word, not even Walt Disney, but Harry had been curious and so he had searched through the Hogwarts library that first Christmas break in hopes that it carried books on wizarding fairytales. It had, and Harry had spent many enjoyable hours in secret reading them all, never telling a soul since he did not want his pleasure ruined by the ribbing both Ron and Hermione was sure to give him if they ever found out.

Ron and Hermione... Harry frowned in displeasure as he was once again reminded that his two best friends probably weren't his friends as all.

"Hey, why the long face, is something wrong?" Apollo asked, effectively bringing Harry back to the present.

"Nah," Harry said, starting to shake his head in denial, only to break off with a thoughtful frown. "Actually..." he murmured, looking down at his feet, unable to meet the other's concerned, midnight blue eyes.

Apollo didn't push for answers, he merely placed a gentle arm around his new ward's shoulders, giving him a small nudge to get him walking. "Come, I know this is all very confusing for you, but it will be better soon, I promise."

"Thank you," Harry whispered, feeling tears well up in his eyes and willing them away, not wanting to break down a second time in one day.

Apollo felt the teens churning emotions but didn't comment. He merely walked the two of them into the house, pointing out the rooms as they passed them until he came to the Master Suite.

"These are my rooms, you are welcome to come here whenever you need to. And these will be your rooms for as long as you need them," Apollo said, opening the door opposite his own.

"Wow!" Harry breathed in wonder as he stepped into a dream. The floor was made out wood, so well polished that it shone in the sunlight. The top and bottom part of the walls were painted in a rich royal blue and in between were a wide stripe of pristine white. To enhance the breaks between the colours there were intricate carvings filled with what looked like real gold that was glistening in the sunlight that were pouring in through several large windows, complementing both the colours of the walls and the hardwood floor very nicely.

Against one wall was a large fireplace made in white marble with green veins, and situated before it was two comfortable looking armchairs, made of leather in the same green shade as the veins in the marble. On the opposite wall was a large writing desk made of oak with a black marble top, with a matching chair. There was also a large book case that was mostly empty and several small, delicate looking tables that had the same shine as the floor. Harry didn't think he had ever seen a more beautiful room and he said so.

"I'm glad you like it, Harry. I have to say that I'm rather pleased with this set of rooms too. It took me ages to get it just right," Apollo said, a pleased, happy smile lightening up his features as he too looked around the room in obvious pleasure.

"You made this room?" Harry asked, his mouth hanging open wide in astonishment.

Apollo chuckled and gave the nearest shoulder a gentle squeeze, "Child, I created this entire place. I always wanted a home that I knew was mine, and so when I became an Avenger and I had dealt with those who had wronged me, I looked for the perfect spot to build my home and then I spent three decades getting everything just right."

"Wow!" Harry whispered, not sure how to express the awe he was feeling.

"Yeah, wow," Apollo laughed in agreement. "When I bought this parcel of land it was nothing but a wasteland. I got it really cheap, and the seller walked away laughing, thinking he had gotten the better deal," Apollo said smugly. "But I proved him wrong, not that he ever knew it since he was a Muggle and this place is protected against Wizards and Muggles alike. This is _my_ home, and only those I personally invite are able of coming here, or even seeing the property. To everyone else, this is nothing but dry dirt and rocks."

"Could you show me how to do that?" Harry asked timidly, thinking of all the people he didn't want hounding him and who he suspected would not accept a no. At least not from him.

"I will. But first, how about putting your things away? Perhaps a nice hot shower and a change of clothes?" Apollo said as diplomatically as he could. As he had suspected, packing the child's thing had not taken long, and the Avenger was appalled at the state of the few possessions the boy did have. The only things that were worth saving were the teen's school things, everything else were destined to the nearest fireplace if Apollo had anything to say on the matter.

_I need to find out just what the hell has happened to this poor sweetheart. I knew that he was neglected, all Avengers were in their previous life, but this... This is __outrageous__. Couldn't the ones in charge of his care bestir themselves to even get the child decent clothes?!_

Harry blushed and ducked his head, all too aware that it had been a week at least since his last shower.

"I shall leave you to settle in. You can borrow some of my clothes until we get a chance to buy you a new wardrobe. That is, if you don't mind?" Apollo belatedly remembered to ask, suddenly recalling what had happened when he made the same offer to his first ward. Giovanni had blown up spectacularly, not taking anything that even hinted of charity very well.

"I'd like that very much. Thank you," Harry murmured bashfully.

"See you in a bit then," Apollo said with a big smile, relieved that Harry wasn't so far gone that he couldn't accept kindness from strangers, unlike Galen.

Harry watched as the Avenger left the room before turning back to survey his surroundings. Walking over to the only other door in the room, Harry was not surprised to find the bedroom. Stepping inside, wide green eyes took in the sumptuous room in wonder.

A thick, cream-colored carpet covered the floor; thick enough that his feet actually sank down as he stepped onto it and for a moment Harry worried about getting it dirty but the thought was soon pushed out of his head as he took in the rest of the wonderful room, hardly able to believe that he was going to be living here from now on.

The bed was a four-poster, and it was much, much larger than the one he slept in at Hogwarts. The bed curtains were also cream coloured, as was the colour on the walls. The bed along with the other pieces of furniture was made of a beautiful red wood, which oddly enough did not cause Harry to think of the Gryffindor Tower. Perhaps it was the lack of gold? Scattered here and there were pillows in various shades of red, going along well with the gleaming wood, giving the room a much needed touch of colour without dominating it.

Sunshine came pouring in through three large windows and when Harry walked over to the closest one he was met with a spectacular view of a incredible rose garden that just _had_ to have fairies and unicorns in it.

All in all, this had to be one of the cosiest bedrooms Harry had ever seen, and unlike the orange horror Ron had made of his bedroom, this was a room the teen knew he could relax in and just be himself.

Feeling curious and eager to see what the bathroom would be like, after all, it was bound to be as wondrous as the parlour and the bedroom, Harry tore himself with some difficulty away from the grand view to examine the last room of the suite.

Opening the door to the bathroom Harry found himself frozen in place, unable to do anything but gape in wonder. The bathroom was made out of black marble with green veins running through the stone. The bathtub rivalled the one in the Prefect's bathroom, and it was made of what looked like pure green marble, although Harry hadn't known such a stone existed. The fixtures were all made of gold, something that did not surprise Harry in the least, and an entire wall of the spacious bathroom was covered in mirrors.

Harry was about to turn away from the mirrors when he made several startling discoveries. One, he wasn't wearing a shirt, and two, he really did have a set of impressive wings. How he had managed to overlook them until now he'd never know, but there they were.

Stepping closer to the mirrors, Harry carefully flexed his new addition, taking note of how the feathers shifted and fluttered as the wings moved.

"I see that you have discovered your wings," Apollo said softly from the doorway, not wanting to startle his charge.

"It was a bit hard to miss," Harry said wryly, his lips twitching slightly in amusement.

"True," Apollo replied, a matching smile playing on his own lips. "So... What do you think?"

"I think... that they will take some time getting used to," Harry replied honestly, back to looking at himself in the mirror.

"Also true. Hmm... I hadn't noticed..." Apollo murmured, coming to stand behind Harry, carefully running one of his hands over the smooth feathers.

"Hadn't noticed what?" Harry asked curiously, not really expecting an answer. Everyone else in Harry's life had kept secrets from him, why shouldn't Apollo?

"I hadn't realised that your feathers are not pure black as most Avengers' are. You're feathers are more of a really deep purple. No wonder you became one of us."

Harry arched an eyebrow and carefully manoeuvred the wing not examined by Apollo so that he could take a closer look at the feathers covering it. To his surprise, Harry found that the older man had been right, his feathers weren't black but a purple so deep that it looked black. But standing in the bathroom, surrounded by black marble, the true colour of the feathers was easy to see.

"What does it mean?" Harry asked, turning his attention away from his wings, glancing up at Apollo expectantly.

"It means that the betrayals you have experienced were deeper and more damaging to your soul than any of us expected." Realising that Harry didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about, Apollo did his best to elaborate. "An Avenger is born through betrayal, I believe I told you that earlier."

Harry nodded his head, remembering the things Apollo had told him before they left Privet Drive.

"Most Avengers receive a blow so devastating to their person that they... die. Not physically, but their heart and soul, they just can't take any more, and they are reborn due to a fierce wish to avenge themselves on the ones betraying them. They are reborn from their mind's determination to get even, no matter the cost.

"It is a difficult concept to put into words," Apollo said with a sigh. "The rebirth is different for everyone since betrayal is always personal, and even though we are of one people, none of us are the same. We truly are a people of individuals," Apollo said with a small laugh.

"But back to the matter at hand. You, my child, are different in that it was your soul that controlled your transformation. For you, it was your heart and mind that shattered and died, while your soul cried out for retribution towards those who had wronged you. Because of that, because of the blood your sole bled when the betrayal was discovered, your feathers aren't black as most other Avengers are, but red."

"Oh," Harry muttered, stunned by the information he had been given, and equally stunned that he had actually gotten a reply to his question. "Does this mean that I am different from you?"

"Not really," Apollo replied soothingly, having an idea at what thoughts were running through his young charge's mind. "As I said, we are all individuals; there is no mould, no norm, no right or wrong as to what an Avenger is. The one big difference between you and most other Avengers will be that your magic most probably will be ruled by emotions instead of cold logic. I can't say for sure until we've had a chance to test you. But I wouldn't worry, you are you, and you are unique. Just as I am unique, and proud of it," Apollo said, ruffling Harry's hair affectionately. "Go on, take your shower. I've left some clothes on your bed. There is no hurry, just come and knock on my door when you are finished."

"Okay," Harry murmured, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by everything he had been told. "Apollo? Thank you," he added, giving the older man a tentative smile.

"You are welcome, little one. See you later," Apollo replied, giving the reeling teen a kind smile before exiting the bathroom.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This is a story I began writing a long, long, _long_ time ago. I always intended to finish it, but since I've been unable to add a single word to this story, I think I will call it an UFO (unfinished object) and be done with it. If anyone wants to adopt this story, or the concept of the Avengers, you are free to do so. Just drop me a line and tell me the link since I'd love to read what you come up with.


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